Heart Break Hotel
by 00000009
Summary: Kaioh Michiru is just at the beginning of a rebellious romance to an exchange student at a boarding school notorious for housing rich delinquents. In the shadows, Tenoh Haruka is closely guarding a secret - her one-woman mission to take three innocent lives.
1. Chapter 1

_The ash – I feel it in my lungs, I try to cough it out, but the air -all air- all matter, all of myself and my thoughts seem to be part of it. Burnt beyond recognition. My ears understand only a steady keening. I don't hear my feet as I stumble onwards, grasp for the handle, its form is cold and thankfully familiar. I pull it down, the door gives way and I collapse into the room. I cough. I cough and cough and taste blood and watch my hands (scratched, bleeding) flat against the tatami. They leave crimson prints. I crawl the next few feet, make it to the bed and, without reason, grasp the pillow. I drop my face into it, inhale the scent, and begin another coughing fit._

_It is almost accidentally that my hand finds the corner of the book. I pull myself into a seated position; use all my will to regain a regular rhythm to my breathing (this isn't the time to stop). My vision is blurring and I think of this; it was kept under her pillow, a child's hiding place. _

* 1 month earlier

The heat of the day has disappeared. Spots of sunlight have grown dim, dimmer and left. It is a shaded part of the park in which I stand, nudging orange pine needles with the toe of my shoe. Here is an unclaimed space existing between the changing rooms and furthest cluster of trees in the park. A secret space, yes, but I am sure it is the right spot. There is a scattering of rusted cans, of cigarette butts to inform me that no, I am not the first to visit, however pioneering I may feel. I am still in my school uniform. I look down to my shoes and their embarrassing gloss against the matte of a dusty ground. Oh, _pioneering indeed_.

A scuffled step approaches. I believe it is her, but then again, I haven't familiarized myself with such detail as the rhythm of her walk. Not yet. A thrill of fear twists through me, cold and quick. What if it is someone else entirely? What if they demand (quite rightly) _what on earth would one doing hiding out in the bushes_?

But it isn't someone else. It is her.

She looks down as she approaches, kicking dispassionately at unseen debris. I inhale, hold a straight gaze and watch her wild hair, her shockingly bright tracksuit. Terribly unfashionable, but it makes sense on her I think. She mumbles some things I won't remember. The fear, the thrill twist is strangling my thoughts.

"This lonely enough?" She says, half smiling.

I nod, afraid of the sound of my voice.

She steps forward, puts her hands on my hips, bends down.

We kiss.

We kiss and it is messy, unpracticed and delicious.

Yes, I am kissing a girl, Elza Gray, and she tastes like Californian oranges and broad blue skies. I kiss her and imagine white beaches and roller-blading down boulevards in a distant, eternal summer; she has the skin of an American sunbather, very tanned, very lovely. I haven't asked her yet about her life there, I have been too shy.

The sun drifts further in the sky, leaving a chill and I pull back. I don't know what to say. She looks down, a small, silly smile on her face, and I laugh, I embrace her, I don't know what else to do, certainly not what words, if any, to use. This is our first kiss. This is my first kiss – with a woman. I feel reckless and rebellious and, _Ara_, a bit concerned that a gardener might come across us, might shoo us out, or call the police, or worse – my parents!

"Hey, now, Honey," Elza speaks over my shoulder, "Somethin' got you spooked?"

She calls me things like that - "Honey," "Sugar," - sweet things. She has always done this, even before we became close. Americanisms, I suppose.

"It's getting late… I think." I say, "I should probably start home."

"You want an escort then?"

"You have a car?"

"Car? In this country?" She looks at me as though I have a second head. "Honey, with the piled on regulations you got here I'd be deported right on home sooner than chug along in a _car_."

"Okay then," I smile, "I'll see you."

I walk over the slippery pine needles, kicking out so that none catch on my socks, until I get to the walkway. Back on the path I feel better, more in control, but at the same time...sadder, farther from... from a wildness, a foreignness.

"Just like that?" she calls over my shoulder.

"Just like that!" I call back, and my voice is controlled, but I don't look back. I can feel her eyes on me, feel them hot on every part on me, and scary as that is... I think I like it!

I never kept a diary as a child, so consider yourself lucky; I'm writing this for you. I'm keeping this because I haven't figured out which parts are important yet, or when I'll stop adding notes or which things you'll need to know, but honestly, some half-assed journal would have been a godsend a month ago. I don't know how it'll work for you – I wish you luck, I wish you peace and joy and whatever else you need to get through. I hope you don't need too much. I hope you don't love too much – you'll have to unlearn that.

For me it started with nightmares. The kind that you try and yell your way out of though your lips won't work, and can't until finally, when you awake, there's a metallic taste in your mouth. These nightmares followed me every time I fell into unconsciousness – I mean unconsciousness, not sleep. They all stopped with the trinket. A pen-type thing, gold, blue, very shiny. You'll probably understand what I mean – you touch the trinket and the nightmares stop. At least they stop living exclusively in your mind. They explode into daylight. The beasts and the mad women and their twisted ways of inflicting pain. Gods, so much for you to look forward to, huh?

So you get the trinket and the healing happens faster. Don't get me wrong - the pain is just as intense, the memory, too, just as intense. Take right now - I am lying on my bunk, watching the slats of the bed overhead, observing the differences in the spaces between. I do this because I don't want to move, because breathing too deeply makes me want to pass out. So instead I hear the muffled television show, the clink of chopsticks from the dorm next-door. Must be dinner time. Distant microwave beeps. Yep, about then I guess. I don't feel like eating.

If we never meet, you won't be any worse off. I'm guessing you're a girl, I'm hoping you're some kind of Olympic athlete. As for me – I'm no one. I came here (Tokyo) because I had to, Osaka had run its course – it was decided that it would be better for me to study further from historical "mishaps". My roommate calls this place Heart Break Hotel. It's supposed to be where all the rich and irresponsible kids get sent. I hope you're the responsible sort. This is one hell of a responsibility.

Three lives – three people we need to track. As soon as I can figure out a pattern as to who they could be, I'll write it, I swear, but right now I'm hanging out to see where the nightmares lead. I don't think the enemy is any further than I am. They have a kind of desperation about them. Desperate but damn strong. Getting stronger it seems. I'm doing my best to keep up.

It's getting late. My roommate will be back so I'm going to sign off for the night. So, just to summarize, I hope you're a hyper-vigilant, robotically determined, super Olympian, or are at least in the process of becoming one. I write that, because if you're reading this, it's already too late for me.

If there are Gods, may they be with you,

H. T.

I walk beneath the silvery glow of the garden lamps of the estate, I watch my shadow walk beside me, then grow, stretch out to something strange. I am mindful that each step takes me closer to my front door – perhaps that it the strangeness I'm feeling. How could I possibly be inside? How could I be anywhere contained? My chest it on fire – it must be!

E – L – Z – A

I imagine the script of her name as she must write it in looped English letters. I imagine my name written similarly M – I – C…

"_Darling_, where have you been?"

"Good evening, mother."

My mother does not appear to agree to the _goodness_ of the evening. She wears an evening robe and a look of concern verging on anger. Well, how could she begin to understand when…?

"You'll catch a cold like that – those uniforms aren't designed for moonlit strolls!"

"Is it cold?" I walk up the stairs.

"Cold? It's dropped several degrees! It's positively unseasonable!"

"Ara," I step inside, "I hadn't felt it."


	2. Chapter 2

I follow Elza closely as she strides out along the corridor. Her jacket billows behind her at the pace she sets. _Go, go go…_

Actually, despite its student body, it's rather a lovely campus. On the tour so far I have been through the sports grounds, viewed a beautiful indoor swimming pool – entirely empty, entirely inviting. The spidery light reflections danced over the ceiling in rather a mocking way. There was something in the hum of the water, just so delicious, so anticipating… yet it seemed the local "delinquents" were uninterested in this feature. Elza promised she would break us in on another visit. "I got the hook ups." She'd said.

An appealing thought!

Presently we are walking through the residential space. The architecture seems to reference the Moroccan tradition of outdoor – indoor spaces, which is to say, the student accommodation is a multi-tiered arrangement constructed around a central garden. The doors to each room open out to corridors that look over a green space accommodating benches, additional sports courts, bicycles and… more loitering students. Perhaps I'm a little paranoid given the reputation of Adachi Academy, but it does seem that the people I come across have a rather disturbing aimlessness. They hang, rather than move. They look over at you just a little longer than what is comfortable. But then Elza is here, and I can't – I simply _cannot_ find her dangerous!

"Yo!" She calls out.

I jump. Stop.

She waves at a below gathering of soccer players – all men – who seem to recognise her.

"Gonna join us, Gray?" The one with the ball calls back. "Or are you busy trying to "_recruit_"?"

"Honey," she calls back, wrapping an arm around my waist, "this 'un's already recruited!"

And we continue to walk, perhaps a little faster. There are cat calls and wolf-whistles (and general, indecipherable animal sounds) from the soccer players. Excitement flickers down my spine. I am all too conscious of the warmth of her palm on my back.

"We can duck in here," she nods towards double doors, "It's not fine dining, but it's accessible."

"Is this a dinner date?" I laugh. I can't say I've been thinking about eating.

"It is if you've got change!"

Apart from its scale, the dining area isn't particularly remarkable. There is a considerable bank of vending machines, an area with stove-tops and what I imagine is a servery during peak times. There are long, vacant tables and only a couple of others in the room. There is a man cradling a guitar strumming something to another – no, I think it is a woman – with her back turned. I wait a moment trying to recognise the tune, but it's unfamiliar.

Elza looks at me, smiling slowly, and I feel that thing again, that beautiful, terrifying feeling that holds me in place. Fixed. Transfixed…

"Oi American, you know this one?" It's the man with the guitar.

I look down, inexplicably ashamed, and the man strums louder, his rhythm off (I think, deviously, that it's a poor indication for that other woman he's entertaining!) The man sings something discordant about Elvis and falling and freeways.

"A friend of yours?" I murmur, not looking over.

"Acquaintance, let's say." She smiles back. "Enjoying the serenade?"

"…No." I watch her expression. It doesn't fall. "Were you going to show me where you stay?"

"You mean… my room?"

"Yes, if that is where you stay."

"Uh yeah, if you… I mean _if_ you…?"

"Take me." I offer my hand. Something about the musical assault, or the need to escape it, emboldens me. Then again, perhaps it is the suspicion that all – any – of these students may have been up to much worse than I would ever mean to…

Elza's hand is warm, perhaps a little moist. She's in this, I think. She might be in this as much as I am. We walk on, not speaking, not moving too quickly, lacing our fingers tightly as though it's the only communication left.

H

I hate this place. Seriously, I do.

Sorry – I should probably start with something like:

Hey, how're you doing? Welcome to journal entry number 2. How's the apocalypse coming?

Sorry – I need to sleep more.

I'm writing from somewhere a little more tolerable – you know in movies, you have the hero, and he's got to climb somewhere high enough to get the head space? I would climb on top of the Maths block classes if it didn't get me suspended. Failing that I head for the park. Around here your average park-goer seems entirely wrapped up in their own dilemmas. The fixated couples, the single-minded runners – it's a perfect situation for collecting your thoughts without interruption. I'm sure you'll develop your own method. Personally, I find taking the bike out for a while calms the nerves; at least it triggers different nerves. If you read this, please make sure my bike is cared for. He needs oil and fuel and easing on the clutch. He also deserves a skilled rider – no commuters, thanks.

Gods. Okay, it's happening again. A flood – a flooding headache, a building, the front - façade – looks like – it's like – ok, it's a shop I know. It's Ginza. Damn. Don't have the trinket. I need the trinket.

M

Oh.

We're here. The room seems so small. There are two sets of bunks, though the others don't appear to be lived in and – Elza is just _watching_ me. My skin prickles as her gaze touches it. I want to run. I want to stay. She steps forward, raises her hands, runs her fingers through my hair. Why is she is always so warm? I kiss her. Her lips are warm too. I know her better this time. I am learning her style. I am… overwhelmed.

Her hands run down my back, they leave a burning trail. Every touch begins a ripple. Every ripple collides with another. I don't know the rhythm that should be; we are composing as we go. Her fingers snake beneath the edge of my blouse. I feel it lift from my skin and the air of the room clothe me.

"Wow." she steps back, her expression a little goofy, "They know what you wear under that uniform?"

"Ara, I may have changed." I toss my hair from my shoulder.

She steps forward. I grab the collar of her silly jacket and we fall to the bed.

I feel as though I am still falling.

Her skin is so dark next to mine; I want to rub her colour into me. I want to hear her voice change, to lose the restraint of accent, and take on that universal sound of urgency.

It does.

I do.

The door opens with a metallic scratch. I dive under the covers (right under the covers, like a child) too fast to see the intruder. I hear only my breathing, then the voices.

"Geez Gray! Don't you use socks on the door handles or something in the States? _Ugh_." A deep voice – but a woman's, I think.

"We – I'm a bit busy…!" I can feel the shift in tension in Elza's body.

"No kidding! Look you're going to have to halt Shades of Gray for 10 seconds. There's something I need _now._"

"Seriously?"

"Whoever or whatever it is – cover it up – I'm coming in."

"Okay I…"

The door creaks. My heart hammers. There is a scattering of running steps, sudden rustling, more running and a slam.

I wait a moment, breathe in and out, then pull the covers from my face and raise myself onto my elbows. Elza is sitting quite straight, clutching the sheets to her chest.

"My roommate." She says finally, still watching the door.

"Yes," I say, "so it would seem. Perhaps an important piece of information to relay in future."

"An import…?" She turns back to me, breaking into a grin. "You never asked."

"It isn't funny."

"Aw, Sugar, not at all?" She brushes her fingertip against my lips. I swat it away.

"That could have been anyone!"

"Probably not. The roommate isn't much of a social animal."

"_And_ you could get expelled."

"Honey, that ship has sailed."

"And this roommate is aware you take _women_ back to the dorm?"

"Eh?" She rubs the side of her face. "Can't say that's come up actually. Not even sure which way she swings… though you would _hope_ – "

"Hmm?" I begin to feel around the sheets for my clothes.

"What can I say? She's _kind of_ a _looker_."

"Ara, you shouldn't go to such lengths to '_recruit_' then should you?" I raise an eyebrow.

Honestly! While I'm still in her bed she says these things? Is this another American habit?

"Oh, _Honey_, you are cute when you're angry." She touches my lips again. I allow it. "Far cuter than any roommate in the history of awkward shared living."

"Good." I kiss her hand and its impertinent fingers.

H

I'm writing from a bar. I got here afterwards, got walked here by a guy I know. He happened to be in the area. Happened to find me bloodied and generally messed up out the back of one of the department stores. He's good – Ikeda – another inmate of the academy I'm at. He doesn't ask questions, doesn't seem to want anything, just flips the bartender some fake ID and brings over glasses of Shochu. Drinking it, I imagine the burning sensation is sealing over, healing the inside of my body. It helps, anyway, I think.

The target was a girl from the perfume counter. I'm not sure why. I took her over to the back doors and left when I was sure she was breathing okay, but I couldn't stick around to be found. I think she'll be okay. Should be.

The woman calling the shots at these friendly encounters calls herself Eudial – you might need to know that, I couldn't find any links to someone of that name, but maybe you will. She brings out her pets, nasty things, bizarre and heavy and relentless. Those, I kill, but they're only a distraction.

We've got three people to kill, you and I, how does that sound?

I guess memories or premonitions will come to you too. Maybe you can interpret them better. Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever find out whether we're the good guys or the bad guys. Maybe the bad kind of good guys? Actually, I think I may have dreamt of you, you were surrounded by so much light that I couldn't make out much other than you had the figure of a woman, but it felt reassuring.

I believe you're out there.

Whoever you are, I'm going to believe in you.

I think I'm going to sign off now. Hard night's work and all that. Ikeda has a guitar out at another table; he's playing something over and over trying to get it right. Usually that would be annoying, but the predictability appeals. Weird guy really. Just singing over and over:

"I'm not lost; I just want you to find me.

I'm not lost; I just want you to find me.

I'm not lost; I just want you

… to find me."


	3. Chapter 3

Vivaldi is playing ever so quietly over the sound system. This is the precise decibel level which my mother enjoys as an accompaniment to breakfast. Over the plane of white linen, seated a few meters away is the other accompaniment, myself. I nudge the rice in my bowl with the tips of my chopsticks. I separate it into little mounds, like snow piles, and wonder if Elza has ever seen a white winter.

I wonder if the scent of her lingers on me, whether I'm sending clues out to the world, inspiring suspicion. But, no, who would notice? Who would think to notice?

These days, I can't help but notice Elza. She just seems to move slightly differently in a crowd. She's just that bit taller, more… buzzing. She has a buzz about her. There's always something she has to say, or someone she's just seen, or something she _totally_ loves. She makes me believe that things are simple, and joys and pleasures are accessible, can be plucked from the sky, and hadn't I been foolish ever to miss them?

I had.

I inhale deeply. I think of her breathing, how it had been, how it had become quicker. I wonder if next time, if I were slower, if she had to wait longer, just how –

"Your Father will be calling this evening," My mother begins, "I have that function, the fundraiser, but he'll speak with you. It would be nice for him."

Function. Fundraiser. Typicial evening… only with my Father travelling as well…

"You're… out?" The possibilities begin alighting throughout my brain.

"Oh, I'm sure I said - I_ did_." Plainly guilty, my mother deflects as usual, "You've been rather distracted recently – is it school?"

Bingo.

"School - ? Yes. Yes we're… a there's a lot to focus on." I swallow. "Actually I've joined a study group in the evenings."

My mother looks surprised then begins to register something like suspicion. She watches my face, my hands, the breakfast I am playing with. I still my chopsticks.

"Michiru, darling, now you don't have to take it upon yourself to help those girls." My mother sips at her tea, then twirls her left hand. "No good holding yourself back."

"I will be mindful." I say. _Oh, hold me back!_

"You're a just an aid worker at heart." She smiles as she shakes her head.

I smile and don't mean it.

X

The "break in" to the swimming pool is far less dramatic than I had hoped. Before I am able to explain the significance of the empty house I have available this evening, Elza is off to her track meet, leaving me with a fellow student's key card to access the pool and her promise to find me in an hour.

I had envisioned a starry night, the wire clippings of a broken fence, silence that came and went in terrifying waves, perhaps the torchlight of a security guard. I had hoped for the push and pull of a dare, the stirring of a challenge. I had imagined then creaking open the door to the complex, reaching the water, diving in nude, the cutting cold that warmed with my stretching muscles…

Another lifetime, perhaps. In this one, having entered rather more officially, I find the chlorine scent still stimulates that same excitement as when I was a child. In a black swimsuit, stretched, warm, dry, I stand at the deep end of the vacant pool, curl my bare toes over the rough edge, look out to the unbroken surface. Only the filtration system sends little arcs to disrupt the water level. I could leave this scene, I think, I could turn, walk away, it would remain waiting, humming.

I crouch down, pull my arms behind me, throw them forward, spring out from the edge… and crash into life.

It is all as it ever is.

The chill embrace, the merging with a pulsing body, the flowing of water ahead and behind my limbs, and listening to the timing my own breath. I become more and less. When I swim I remember that which sustains me, I think of the forces that keep me alive, how they flow through other bodies, how the force of life enters so suddenly and can leave just as suddenly. Forget oxygen, nitrogen, carbon - without water there is no life.

I swim and turn and swim in innumerable loops. I jet forward, I disrupt the wake of my own creation, I breathe through the water and drink in the air. The song beneath the surface is heavy, steady, I love its lack of affectation, its mournfulness; the bass over which whale-song might play. I listen and continue until the burn of my arms, my lungs becomes too much. I move gently to the corner, place my foot on the startling rigidity of the step and move into the world of gravity.

There is still no one in sight. Moment by moment the ripples I have created are being absorbed, disappearing from memory. Does water have a memory? I wonder whether Elza is far off. I lean over the deep end, twist water from my hair, wrap on a towel and pad along the cold tiles towards the changing rooms.

The sound of rushing water stops me. Chlorine replaced by the scent of soap – sandalwood? A shower is on._ Someone was here? _Would they recognise me as an outsider, would they care? I choose in favour of bravado, continue past the other woman obscured by a shower door from shoulder to calf, and silently thank the Gods that her back is turned.

I choose a stall several doors down, secure the door behind me, peel off my swim suit and enjoy the feel of warmth down my back.

Anticipation.

Stimulation.

Relief.

Are all our greatest desires no more complex than this sequence? Maybe, maybe not. Well, I still have no intention of giving up swimming. Or Elza. I massage soap over my shoulders, arms, chest. I think of tonight, let my imagination swim in twisting lines until the neighbouring shower is sharply turned off.

X

Outside the changing rooms Elza is playing with the cuff of her impossibly bright jacket. I feel a smile pull at my lips. I can't help it. I want – would just love – to run over, throw my arms around her neck, kiss her… but there are people around – girls – some of her team perhaps? She looks up to me with an uncommonly anxious expression.

"Good swim?" Her hand brushes my arm briefly, rather platonically, and drops again to her side.

I nod. "It's a lovely centre, I still can't believe that no one would – "

"Michiru, I thought I might introduce you to someone." She interrupts.

"Okay."

Honestly, who could be so important right at this moment?

She must be worried about something. Elza looks around, seems to be missing her "someone," then, quite without explanation, walks off around one of the entrance ways. I remain, now a little disturbed, waiting a few full minutes before she returns with the someone.

I hold my breath _2-3-4…and out.._.

A woman.

A _tall_ woman, blonde and, truly, in complexion and posture, rather model-like, complete with a model's short hairstyle. Very chic. The woman looks directly at me, her eyes a startling green. I inhale. The exhaustion of swimming catches up with me – I feel rather light-headed. Elza says something - an introduction. I don't catch it.

"Nice to meet you." The woman says in a quick, low voice, her eyes never leave mine.

Then it hits me. It's the flatmate, the voice of the flatmate! Oh, I feel my cheeks burn! I look to Elza, wondering why on earth this was so necessary. Does she hate me, us?

The woman continues looking at me as though I am from another planet. Am I giving the right answers? Somehow I can't concentrate. Is it worse because she's so attractive? What might she do? But she looks down, back to Elza, nods, half-smiles and breaks the moment. A relief but...almost disappointing.

"You look better out from under those sheets." Says the flatmate.

But her smile quickly twists; she winces, frowns, puts her hand to her temple and turns to walk away. Her runway posture is broken as she falls into a run. Quite a figure…

How perfectly strange!

I find myself laughing. Elza does too. I grab her hand.

"Well, you said your roommate was a looker _but_ – "

"Hey now sugar, you'll drive me to jealousy – and after all that worry!"

"You wanted her to know?"

"I want everyone to know." Elza says, smiling that electric smile.

I smile back and mean it.

X

H

X

My room is empty tonight, and it's good – thank you. I need the peace, I don't know how long you've been here, but I find myself craving it in Tokyo. Peace. Space. That probably makes me sound ancient, I feel rather ancient after most fights.

The target today seemed way off, total waste of time, blood etc. We're looking for someone "pure." I don't know exactly how that manifests, but it doesn't seem to be infants being targeted, thank the Gods! Then again, is that worse? A life that hasn't learnt to love the world before leaving it, would that be better? Or do we turn up loving the world?

Do you love this world?

I met you today. I knew you by your scent: jasmine, by your blue, blue eyes, and the way the air stopped all around you. The wind was hushed, turned back, waited to hear what you had to say. When you spoke, my lungs filled with concrete, I'd felt. My system seized. All I could think of is that it was _you_, actually you, and what was I going to do about it? You weren't big. Not tough, not unsmiling, not detached. Not right.

Not for this.

You're the one "seeing" my flat mate. She likes you, it's obvious, the level of goof-ball has increased exponentially. She's been on the cusp of telling me everything for a while now and I've been avoiding it. You should know though, that woman is besotted.

What could be worse?

You seem happy, both of you. I will do what I can to defend that. You're not a killer, are you, Miss Kaioh? I really hope you never need to read this. If you do, I'm sorry, please know that I'm trying. And know that I appreciated you taking my roommate out of the picture every so often. Hopefully with a little sweet-talking I will get my own space. After my previous encounters, the Dean is just stuck on the idea of my requiring suicide watch. Seriously! Like I should have the luxury of such a thing!

Too morbid, sorry.

A confession: I watched you before I knew who you were. After track I went to the changing room and heard the sound of someone in the pools – they'd been empty for so long.

You swim like you belong in the water.

You move in a different rhythm, it's something else to see – not a desperate rush, not a flurry of arms and breaking water – you make the world move slower. I am thankful for that, however you do it. I'm sorry that I won't tell you this in person – any of it – the parts you need and the parts you don't. I guess, if it gets to that point, any advice I'd have to give can't be that useful anyway? I wonder if you'd figure things out better.

I wonder so many things about you. For months I've being dreaming of something like you. Did I dream you into existence? Stranger things can happen and stranger dreams I have had.

The latest is with a girl, she's pale, maybe kindergarten age, and she's on top of a heap of waste, sitting and coughing and coughing, her skin getting tighter, her eyes rolling back. Every time her chest heaves another part of it disappears, this hole grows in her until, by the time I get to her – and I'm running like anything – she coughs one last time and her body, only bones and an evilly grinning skull, falls at my feet. I don't recall whether you were in the dream.

Perhaps I can dream you out of this destiny too.


	4. Chapter 4

I am on the ground, though I may as well be at sea – it isn't level. Waves of earth hurtle forward, leave me staggering, unsure which way is up. It's getting hard to breathe. The sun has been blocked out – with what, I'm not sure. Slashes of lightning hint at the clear areas to step into – but where am I moving towards? Is there anything left? A mound reveals itself as a pharmacy; the innards of a window display are spilt out in front of me.

This is my own neighbourhood.

The way I walk to school.

I feel sick.

The road ahead contorts again, throws me to the remains of a sidewalk. My ribs crunch against a litter of glass and rock and broken wood. I consider not getting up. I see a hand – it isn't connected to a body. The earth heaves once more. I push up from my bloodied knees, stagger forward – and there is a forward – the slightest blue light in the distance, a constant. Oh for a constant!

I try not to look at the bodies.

I try not to think of the souls they once carried. All gone now, all rubble, all zeroed. I don't know why I remain; I only know that I need to. Someone still needs me – I feel it keenly, it pulls me forward, blunts the edge of my sickness, my sadness.

I call out but my voice is absent. I scream –

And scream myself awake.

My arms move out in search of Elza, then I remember where I am (no longer in my Mother's bed) and where she is (safely back in her dorm bunk). I am alone with the shock of a brutally vivid nightmare and the sense that I've forgotten something critical. I can't sleep. I turn on my bedside light, dislike the smallness it creates, turn it off and open the curtains to the night sky. A sliver of moon smiles in the distance. Was that my light? No. All just a dream, but I don't dream like that. Never. Could it be the stress of the situation at hand?

Elza left long before my mother returned. The fear I took as a thrill, she simply took as what it was – the threat of _serious_ trouble. Only so recently we remade the bed, pulling down at the corners, smoothing the cover, stepping back to check the effect. It made me giggle – that we should suddenly switch to such thoughts of precision and good house-keeping. I was alone in my amusement. I called for a taxi, watched it disappear down the road, felt the lonely night air, felt the thrill drain away. What was it at the root? Guilt? Shame?

I suppose I don't really want the world to know how I spend my free time, but now there is someone else – the roommate – the one whose name I didn't catch, whose eyes left my heart stammering. I guess I'm worried about what she thinks of us – of me. Is she the kind to spread gossip? Somehow I don't think so. Something about her voice – perhaps the way she left. I'm not sure why exactly, but I don't believe she is a stranger to secrets.

X

Tiredness still tugs at my eyelids as I step up the stairs to Aichi Academy's residential area. The world is a little too bright. Flashes from reflecting windows catch me off guard. I suppose a lot of the students will be involved in a Saturday morning clean-up. I can't imagine Elza being tidy; she was quite hopeless at bed-making!

I make my way to her door, raise my fist to knock, then pause when I see the door is ajar, there are voices – not Elza's. I step aside. I wait.

"At this stage, I'm afraid we need to keep those rooms free incase of – "

"Really? All six of them." It's the roommate.

"_Miss_ Tenoh." A voice comes sharply. A teacher, perhaps? "How do you know how many spares we have anyway?"

"Try to keep in the know. Now that I am, let's talk about switching."

"You don't need to switch. We don't need anymore – "

"More… _what_?"

"Incidents."

"Incidents, huh? Is that what you call it in your line of work – "an _incident_."?"

"Miss Tenoh, you'll watch the way you speak to me." There is a pause. "And… I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?"

"There's simply no way we could risk it, spare space or not."

"For _Gods_… it wasn't even here and it wasn't _me _that needed attention! It's not infectious, you know."

"Well actually in schools where there have been… incidents… the upset caused to fellow students, particularly those who were close – "

"Look, forget it. I get it. You can't help me. Someone else pulls your strings, right?"

"I _don't_ think - !"

"Just… I'd like to be alone," she sounds defeated. "Thank you, Ma'am."

"Well… well if there's anything I can do to help." The teacher's voice is softer.

"Yeah, sure. Thanks."

I step back further to see the smart-suited woman move out of the room, blink in the light, appear to reassert her expression to one of purpose, and stride off down the corridor, her heels clicking quickly behind her.

"Elza's not here."

I jump to hear the voice again. Directed at me. I'm frozen. Something in the way she looks out. She's sitting on her bunk, slightly hunched. I'm not sure, but I think I catch the glitter of a tear. I step into the room.

"Are you alright?"

She looks up, watches me with that same curious expression, like I've solved a riddle. I don't understand. She shakes her head, rubs her eyes. She smiles. She looks at me and smiles and it _is_ infectious. She rests her face on her fist.

"You heard all of that, huh?" She raises her eyebrows.

Her voice is quite soft, quite low. Deep water over rocks…

"Most of it, I think…" I say, "Is it because of…?"

"Hm?"

"Because of the other day when you came in and I was here and…"

"Eh?" She laughs, "No, no nothing like that – that's… I don't know, next time put a sock on the door or – "

"Oh I wouldn't!" I say, feeling myself blush.

"Nicely worded note, maybe?" She thinks I'm ridiculous.

I move in further, sit opposite her on Elza's bunk, put my hands on my knees and watch the floor. The floor that does _not_ think I am a joke.

"No one else knows, you see." I say.

"I see." She says. "It's okay."

I don't say anything. Is it okay?

"You're okay…" She speaks again. "You're not going to cry are you?"

Really?

"Oh! And I thought Elza was insensitive - and what would you do if I did? Sometimes people cry, you know? This is an incredibly stressful process, actually."

"Ah…"

"All very well if you_ don't_ need to worry about what your mother thinks, or classmates or… society in general!"

"Sure, I…"

"Would it be so hard just to… I don't know – " I reach out and touch her hand.

Time stops.

I can't see the room.

A thousand scenes flood my mind. The nightmare. The roommate. Dressed differently. She's calling out. Burning. Acid rain. Blood and dirt. Blood and sand. And I, all the way through, screaming for mercy.

"Michiru."

It's Elza in the door frame. A shadow in the light. I see again. I've dropped my hand. The roommate doesn't look at me. Did she just get that? She turns away. She's part of it! She knows something, she –

"Who _are_ you?" I blurt out.

She won't look up.

"Tenoh Haruka." She stands. "I'll leave you girls to it."

Again I watch her walk away. She's definitely hiding something. What is it that makes her so set on being a loner? Does she have the nightmare? Is that even possible?

Elza sits beside me, reaches out and I flinch. A bad move. Instinctive, I suppose. Gingerly, I put my hand on hers and… nothing. No visions. No terrors. It's not me. But Elza looks hurt.

"You're a fast mover, Hon?" She tries to joke. "Meet a pretty face and I can't let you out of my sight?"

"It's nothing like that." I touch her face. No nightmares. No danger.

I am a liar. I don't know what it is or isn't like at all. I've no idea what's happening. I part my lips, but just can't think of how to explain it to Elza. She would think I was losing my mind. Am I? Will this go away?

X

H

X

So it was a bad day. Really bad. I'm writing from that bar again. This time I brought Ikeda along. I brought him because he wasn't up to bringing himself. He wasn't up to walking because today he was the target.

He doesn't know what happened, can't recall. I told him that we got into a fight at the bar. It was the best I had at short notice. After it all I couldn't bring myself to just leave him on the street. His guitar got busted. The monster grew out of it, lashed strings around my neck and wrists. I've found bruising is slow to go away. Ikeda looks okay, just a busted lip, dazed expression – then again that's not too unusual for him. Musician thing, I guess.

The worst part was – when he was up against the thing, the monster, I has to stop myself from protecting him. I had to remember that he was as eligible as any so far. A musician with a pure heart. Are you a musician? I could probably look these things up about you. In a way I want to pretend you don't exist. If you don't exist, then I can't need you. Only on days like these I think I need someone else. There's Ikeda, I guess. He doesn't ask questions, well, with the exception of _"Do you have a boyfriend?" _I told him I was too busy for that kind of thing. Fortunately I don't think he cares in _that way_. He asked if I would help him with his "gig" in the cafeteria. I said yes. I felt so guilty after the busted guitar. No, not the guitar. I felt guilty because I did nothing to defend the guy, and he saw me. For this fraction of a second before it all kicked off, he looked to me as though I might help, like 'wasn't I on his side?' No. I was ready for him to die. Ready probably isn't the right word.

Cruel reminder or not - I liked seeing you today. I can see why Gray's so smitten. You're cute when you're angry. I don't know what happened before I left – you seemed a bit out of it. Sometimes I think you know everything, perhaps I just pretend to myself that you do. It makes me smile. I've carried the vision of you for so long, I suppose it's only natural that you feel familiar. Since meeting you I've been tossing it up - at times I've wanted to break out and tell you everything. I thought, if anyone else has been designed to understand – it's you, right? But you're lovely. You're too sweet. How could I ever ask such a hideous task of you?

X

M

X

The stars are out, watching me as I descend the steps. I look back and the light thrown out from the door to Elza's room is closes off again. We had spent the day together, enjoying the sweet weather and each other. She had traced a map of America, pointing out the migrations of her family. I had tried to picture her parents, had wondered whether she had her mother's hair, her father's mannerisms. Deeper than that, I wondered when Tenoh would return. It scared me. She scares me – at least the visions did. But if I couldn't see her, how could I explain any of it? Was it all a fluke, a trick of a tired mind?

I walk out through the gate, the cold catching at my exposed skin. I follow my shadow beneath streetlights. There is a scuffing from across the road. It's Tenoh! She looks… drunk? She has a limp. Are those cuts on her neck? What is this? I move back from the light, holding my breath. She walks on looking broken. Definitely – there's definitely blood on her shirt. I'm paralyzed. Do I check on her? Do I warn Elza? Before I move forward I see another form – the guitar man from the cafeteria. He follows her but doesn't appear injured. Something is really wrong here. He looks over at me and smiles, gives a quick wave. I stiffen.

"Yo!" He calls. "Careful, eh? This night's no place for girls out on their own."

I don't answer, just run towards home.

In the distance I hear his laughter.


	5. Chapter 5

Your girlfriend is driving me nuts.

So perhaps I am partially at fault – I bit the bullet and did some research, looked you up – but shouldn't she have known your birthday? I thought that was incorporated in dating 101. As it is now she paces. She runs her hands through her hair. She curses in American – _English_ – whatever. In summation, Elza Gray is rather concerned with the matter of present purchasing for someone such as yourself.

I write this because there is nothing else to report. There has been no activity from the enemy for a few days now. Just dropped off of the radar. Silence. A part of me believes that they've given up – that the framework of the task has been too abstract _"Pure-hearted, seriously?"_ The other part of me, that fractured, twisted part, knows better. Sickening as it might be, I know they must be planning something. They must know something I don't. The 'pure' and ugly truth is that I don't want to know. Knowing might save my skin. It might save the world. It's just that still, in my soul, I don't want to discover that first person to sacrifice. Every time there is that moment when I feel closer, when it looks like a target could be the one, it's like the earth leaves from under me.

Should I find a target first, I guess I could offer them a kinder end.

Angel of mercy?

Angel of death.

In the absence of real work I will report that I have agreed to assist Elza in birthday shopping. Please understand that this is purely because I need her to relax enough to stop pounding the ground directly alongside my bed. Vexed – she is vexed – with all the termination that comes to mind with such a word. Her brain has run itself of the tracks. It doesn't matter; I think I've seen something that would suit you. It caught my eye in the jeweller's shop, the window from the store of one of the previous targets; I went in a few days after the event to take another look. It's a piece of coral – quite small, quite white, and carved out from one of the deepest trenches in the Pacific. The sales assistant (mercifully oblivious to our earlier encounter) explained it. I imagined the quiet of such a place, I thought of the diver in his own time zone.

I thought of you moving through the water.

I want to stop thinking if you.

X

M

X

A spring breeze plays with the curtains at my bedroom window. It is warm. I am seventeen. My first birthday with an official (if secret) girlfriend. How perfect that it should be situated on a Sunday! At the foot of my bed is a shallow box tied with a silk ribbon. My mother's handwriting in the card apologises for her absence and informs me of the phone number of the tailor. From inside the box I unfold a new dress - designer, _gorgeous_. I touch the fabric to my cheek. I will arrange a time with the tailor to have it brought in at the waist. It's wonderful, _wonderful_, but more than anything I'm looking forward to seeing Elza.

There is no one in the house to slow my escape. It is oh, so quick to the academy. I leap up the steps, skip down the corridor, push in the door and… find her bed empty.

What can I say? The joy hasn't extinguished. I call out to the shaded bunk on the other side of the room.

"Good Morning!"

But silence, then:

"Mmrph." Tenoh's shoulders turns towards me followed, reluctantly, by her head; fringe over eyes, face in the shadow of the bunk above.

"…hppy brthdy." She manages. I'm not sure that her lips part.

"Thank you!" I say.

Who would dare to compromise my joy at such a time?

"Your girlfriend's making toast, I think…" Tenoh says.

"I don't think they enjoy rice for breakfast in America."

"Probably not." She rolls back over. "Not enough cheese."

"Oh, be excited for me!"

She sighs, turns back, props her head on her hand. I hold my breath. Even freshly awoken, I have to say she has particularly fine features.

"I am, I _am_…" she says, "congratulations on making it to fourteen…"

"Seventeen."

"I know ." she says.

"You _know_?"

"Mmhmm, I looked you up on the computer thing." She swings her bare legs out of the bed, pushes herself into a seated position.

"The computer thing…?"

"Mm, the one where you…" she looks at the floor, " engine on people."

"Where you engine…? As in search engine? You _Googled_ me?"

"Eh? What? No. I think I would remember if I 'googled' you. I think _you'd_ remember if I googled you…"

She raises an eyebrow. I watch her for a blank moment.

"…You don't know what Google means, do you?"

"Hmm…" she rubbed her eyes, "We don't know each other well enough to discuss who we've_ googled_."

"Oh, and what else do you know, Ms Computer Whizz?"

"What… ? Look, the cafeteria's just down the hall – if you go now you'll probably catch her with the marmalade… or jelly… whatever Americans eat."

"_I_ don't eat jelly for breakfast."

"No kidding." She says flatly. "You don't look like you've eaten jelly your whole life."

"Is that right?"

"Mm right. Life's short, eat desert first."

She stands now, in only a vest and shorts, stretches her arms up, rubs her eyes. In the smallness of the room I am conscious of our closeness.

"I'll… yes, thank you."

"You're welcome - and with that in mind - before you go to see my _lovely_ roommate –I think she left something for you on the cabinet."

Tenoh moves away again. Just like a child… can she really be so fearful?

On the cabinet is a box the size of my hand covered in silver paper. It is wrapped with perfectly folded edges – conclusive evidence that Elza was not involved. I tuck my index finger under the wrapping and lift off the tape slowly. It is relatively weighty. I fully open one side, tilt it and allow the contents to slide into my hand. A velvet box. Jewellery. My heart leaps ahead of itself. _My first birthday with a real girlfriend. _ Inside is a necklace, silver and beautifully delicate. It holds an ovoid filigree pendant surrounding a white stone. I inspect closer. It's coral. I lift it. There is a note underneath, not in Elza's handwriting, the jeweller's I imagine,

"_Excavated from the deepest part of the ocean, _

_Somewhere only water can hear,_

_Where time swims peacefully,_

_I thought you might hold onto this."_

I read it again. I stop. I could be submerged, the way I hear my heart thump. It is slow. Once, twice. I had no idea that Elza knew me so well.

She doesn't.

I watch the back turned against me.

Without good reason, I find I want to kiss her cheek and thank her. I am still afraid of the effect her skin will have against mine… then I wonder if it has had this effect on other skins… has she lain with men… or women… before now? Have others felt her warmth, felt her desperation, felt her need and…

She walks out. The air returns to the room and it is cold.

I pass along the corridor. I smile at the cool feel of the necklace against my chest. I feel anxious too. I don't know that it will ever feel safe to think of Elza in a room with someone so… I don't even know. Dangerous, perhaps? Or an attractant of danger. _I am seventeen, I have a girlfriend, it is a Sunday_, I repeat like a mantra. The cafeteria is - yet again - relatively empty. Elza sits across from the dark-haired man from the other night – is he Tenoh's lover? He is good-looking enough, I suppose. There is an intensity about him, perhaps rather like Tenoh, but, again, there's something just a bit dubious is his nature. I guess he's at the academy for some crime or another. Could he be violent? He's slumped over a newspaper and a can of coffee. He's smiling at Elza. I wish he weren't here.

"Hey," the man speaks first, "It's your old lady, American!"

I am stopped in my tracks. "Old" I might laugh off, but I had no idea that news of our relationship had spread to…

"Happy Birthday, Sugar!" Elza makes it over to me and kisses my cheek. I stiffen.

"You know Ikeda, right?" He jabs a thumb towards the silently laughing man.

"Not that _well_…" I smile as politely as could be reasonably expected.

"Ikeda's part of your present."

"Oh?" This didn't seem to be getting better.

"He's got a car."

"How nice for him."

"…sure, if you like noise and fumes." Ikeda tuts as he lifts the can to his mouth. He isn't quite in the conversation.

"I don't understand." I say.

"C'mon, now, I thought you were a genius!" Elza grabs my arm grinning.

"Hmm, not a psychic though…" Honestly.

"We're taking you on a road trip!"

"A road…?" I begin.

"_Easy_ American," Ikeda has an edge to his voice, "Unless your lady here is keen on driving a manual…"

"I don't have a license." I say suddenly. Stuck on the road in a car with a possible violent offender? No thank _you_.

But Elza is clearly disappointed.

She looks down. The clocks tick. The refrigerators hum. The chair scratches the ground noisily as I pull it back to sit beside her. I sneak my hand into hers below the level of the table-top.

"Where to?" I ask quietly.

"The beach." She spoke to our laced fingers.

"Oh," I smile, "that would've been lovely." And I mean it.

It is so very long since my family took regular visits to the stretch of land they own on the coast. Money is always there, but time just isn't. It seems to have run away with study and meetings and events and…well, adulthood I suppose. Now, in my memory, that beachside property has a perpetual sea mist around it. I can't recall the colour of the exterior, even the number of rooms. Did we stay for weeks? Months?

Were we all happy there?

I remember the ocean though. I remember watching the green waves, taller than myself. They threw themselves against the rocks in a repeated suicide. They died and were reborn over and over. It seemed terrible and glorious all at once. I know that – at least one time - It was before the start of a brutal storm that I watched. I was totally transfixed. Perhaps it's something like the need people have to stand at a great height, at the edge of tall buildings, that attraction of oblivion. Certainty. Cleanliness.

My thoughts are interrupted as Tenoh walks into the room. Her hair is damp and she brings with her the scent of sandalwood. I find myself thinking of models again and the fresh-faced men on after-shave commercials. She doesn't notice, or simply ignores, our three pairs of eyes on her as she goes to the toaster, untwists a tie on a plastic bag of bread, flips in two slices and turns to the coffee machine. She pushes in some coins, sets off a groaning sound from the machine, waits with her back turned and arms folded before muttering:

"What?"

"Tenoh, _you_ like fast machines?" Elza asks.

With a practised motion, Tenoh bangs her fist against the coffee machine, propelling it to splutter a stream of milk into her cup.

"Who doesn't?"

"Ikeda, you'd go, wouldn't you? With such a master at the wheel?"

"Mm." He nods decisively, still looking over the newspaper. If he wasn't with her, I would guess that he certainly intended to be.

"Perfect!" Elza claps her hands. The gleam has returned to her eyes.

X

H

X

Happy Birthday to you.

I don't know how this was wrangled and we got to this point but, if I'm honest, it's nice to get out of the city. Let's say I blame Elza and her persistence. I blame Ikeda and his hot set of wheels. Let's say I blame circumstance and boredom and things other than the way you looked. The way you spoke when you asked. Gods. I suspect no one says no to you.

It was a great drive, no traffic, no roof, no hideous radio station to interrupt the sound of the wind. From the rear view mirror it looked like the two of you were very happy. Seems you're the only one who can soothe Elza to silence. She's lucky. You both are. Maybe you'll understand how I couldn't interrupt that.

When we got there, while the two of you disappeared down the beach, I have to admit that Ikeda and I had quite a time of putting together that bonfire. I _may_ have threatened to use his guitar as kindling. Seems 'the sensitive man' doesn't frequently engage with such coarse tasks as wood gathering or pit digging… or _driving_. All these tasks are great fodder for lyrical purposes. Just that the _doing_ seemed rather beyond him. I bet even you would have been a better assistant.

Writing now, in the firelight, as the light in the sky has settled to a red eye on the horizon and the stars are blinking back to life – I don't regret any of it. The four of us sitting around the _rather impressive_ flames, shadows thrown out behind us. The reassuring strum of Ikeda's guitar. The sigh of the sea. Would it be too strange to say that I was feeling something like eternity?

Ikeda's smuggled bottle of Shochu probably has something to do with the way you're swaying just a little out of time. He sings another song in English "For the American," but I don't understand the words.

You hum. You touch the necklace at your collarbone. I catch you looking over at me… you don't look away. Elza puts her arm over your shoulders and you smile and lean in to her. You look over again, touch the pendant and mouth "thank you." I pretend I don't get it. I really hope it has been a good birthday. That there are many, many more to come.

I watch Ikeda. His guitar appears it could be alight, the way it catches the fire's reflection. He looks down when he sings, like no one but he and the instrument in his hands understand. Weird guy. He continues in English and at least it's a part I can translate:

"I can't take my eyes off of you,

… can't take my eyes off of you,

… I can't take my eyes…


	6. Chapter 6

"_Take my hand." She says._

_Her eyes are green, the bright, miraculous green of new shoots that reach to the sun. I can't resist. In a moment her fingers, slim and cool, are laced with mine; they don't tug but her eyes (her eyes!) do. I pick up my skirts with my free hand. I somehow get one leg, then the other, over the edge of the balcony. I see the drop. It is nothing, nothing! I must give up my modesty and grab at the trellis. We begin, haltingly, our descent; she beneath me. Whenever I check and look down to find my next foothold, I find her looking up. It is both reassuring and thrilling. Halfway down, perhaps a little too brazen, I grasp without looking. I push my palm into a vicious thorn. The pain is deep, instant. I let go. It is instinctive. Hot blood already trickles into my sleeve. I lose my balance, heart wild, feet lost. Her whole arm wraps across my shoulders and she steadies me. _

_For a long moment she holds me against her._

"_And what do they call you?" I say._

"_Whatever they like." She says._

"_Then…" I draw back to look at her," what would you have them call you?" _

"_Probably, Ha- whoa"_

_I draw back too much. I fall and fall and hit. The ground is grassy and her voice is in my thoughts . 'Whatever they like.'_

Bright blue circles, almost white, grow and merge and break into the sky. I close my hand lightly and feel sand. I smell the salt and the ash. I hear the waves, and another sound, a putter-putter sound. A boat maybe? I sit up slowly, rubbing a little ache from my shoulders.

Ikeda is already awake and looking out to sea. Elza is beside me, still sleeping. I suppose it is Monday. I suppose I should be mortified. My wrist watch informs me that I have missed my first classes. No doubt I was missed by my mother at the breakfast table. Ikeda looks at me, smirks and looks away.

"She's gone." He says.

"She has…? What do you mean?"

"Important work or something. Took the car. Left a note." He nods to a smouldering clump in the circle where the bonfire once was. He burnt her note?

I am in disbelief. It's not that I know her - just that it doesn't fit with the way that I thought of her.

"You…" I'm still not sure how to speak to this strange man, "You're okay with your car…?

Ikeda shrugs. He strokes his guitar.

The puttering is loud now. I look about, slightly annoyed by the intrusion. There's a helicopter. A gleaming white helicopter is approaching, appears intent on landing. Is the pilot unaware that this is private land? White crests the water where it is agitated by the force of the whirring blades. A tricky landing to be certain.

Elza's eyelids crease and she blinks into wakefulness. I believe she enjoyed most of the liquor last night. Ikeda was more preoccupied with his strumming. Haruka just didn't seem impressed. I had come to understand that Haruka was rarely impressed.

"Wassthis?" Elza greets us. "Got the carnival comin' to town?"

The helicopter lands. We get to our feet. The blades slow to a stop. We watch the pilot emerge, walk towards us. He wears large, dark sunglasses, a dark, creaseless uniform and not the slightest hint of a smile.

"Kaioh, party of three?" He says by way of introduction.

"…Yes?" I answer.

"Please come this way." He gestures with a gloved hand towards the aircraft.

We follow him like the delinquents we are, dishevelled and mind-boggled, caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. It is only when we are being given instruction for boarding that I notice the gold writing of "Tenoh-maru" across the helicopter.

Curiouser and curiouser.

X

H

X

Things fall apart.

It was about 2 am when the nightmare cracked into reality and I woke up. Maybe you'll get the sensation sometime. The feeling is un-ignorable. Maybe you'll be better at it. The vision of the red-headed woman, the one who keeps appearing at the site of a target, was blazing through my thoughts. That's when I stole the car - I had to - I'm sorry.

This girl I knew once used to play this game. She took art, like you, they got these knives, the kind with removable blades, used them for – well, I'm not sure really – collages? Canvas trimming? Anyway, she'd get one of her blades, touch it against a vein in her wrist, and then, just slowly, keep pushing. I always stopped her before she drew blood. And she would laugh and say I had no idea how resilient the human body was. As it turned out 'the human body' had different points of weakness. As it turned out I didn't always stop her in time.

If there is a moral to that story, I guess it's that there are many ways to sustain many minor injuries. If I just keep turning and catching the damage with the right parts of me, it'll all been fine. Nothing. Nothing. And now there's something and I can't figure it out. All the same I'll scratch it down in case you need it. Something is going down in the science labs at the academy.

When I got back, in the way-too-early hours of a Monday – _Monday_ - morning there were people moving in and – I don't know if this was my over-exhausted brain – but I was pretty sure that woman, the red-head was there. No other action to report. Well, one attack, but nothing learnt from it.

I hope you had a good birthday. I'm becoming quite sure I won't be there for the next.

X

M

X

There was an element of premeditation that had rather impressed me. Once we had arrived safely, my mother meeting us at the heliport, it had evidently been spread around that I had been accompanying "less gifted" students on a data-collection project for biology. Rock-pools or ecosystems or something of that nature. The story was that there had been an emergency, resulting in our being stranded. That the fault was with Tenoh, who had personally contacted my mother.

We got away with it.

The only questions my mother had had were "Darling, why ever didn't you tell me you were helping out the Tenoh girl?" and "Didn't you know her family were quite influential?" and "Won't you invite her to perform with you, she's quite the pianist, you know?"

I didn't know.

Sitting on the edge of Elza's bed after the entirely bizarre journey there, I still don't know. Elza, the _woman_ who is my _lover_, may as well have been invisible to my mother. Even Ikeda got more of a look over, one of those suspicious glances reserved for door-to-door salesmen and environmentalists. Elza is still chattering away, as she has been for the past half hour, about the experience of "The Mother in Law". I can't listen. I feel so fragmented.

Haruka walks in with a black eye. My heart heaves. She looks at the both of us and I don't look away. There is also dried blood. There is blood on her cheek. I want to touch her. I can't bear it.

"What happened?"

"I fell." She lies. She goes to her bedside cabinet and picks up a book and moves out of the room.

I can't stand it. I get up, look apologetically to Elza and chase out of the room.

I grab Haruka by the shoulder.

"What was it? You just left us?" I am surprised at my strength as I spin her around. Or perhaps she isn't resisting.

Her lips are pink, they look soft.

"I left a note." She murmurs, not looking at me.

"Ikeda burnt it."

She smirks, "Damn dramatic musicians."

"Did he…?" I reach up to her face where it is bruised. I hesitate, then, ever so lightly, allow the pads of my fingers to touch her skin. No flashes. No visions. Just this strongest warmth, this glowing sensation that radiates from my abdomen, expands to my chest, my neck, my head …

Haruka's eyes widen, she looks at me, at my forehead, as though it is on fire. She steps back. Had I asked the wrong question? Maybe it was exactly the right one. I don't want her to leave.

"Wait, my mother said _you _were a musician."

"Your…?" She laughs. "She's something else, your mother, practically insisted that I come for dinner."

"You don't have to." I said quickly, suddenly embarrassed, "Unless, of course, you want to, you're certainly…" I swallow. "You'd be welcome, of course."

"Of course." She repeats, watching me now. "She's very generous. I'm afraid I have a bit to do at the moment so…"

"Of course." I find myself saying.

Tenoh walks away. I should be used to it by now. I wonder if it has always been myself watching her, whether she had ever watched me. I suspect not. Elza joins me. Puts an arm around me. I don't really want it. It doesn't feel like enough.

"Ikeda, " I ask, "What's he in for?"

"Honey, you make it sound like a prison." Elza guides us back to the room.

"Sometimes it feels that way." I say.

"Lucky, you've just got a visitor's pass then, eh?"

"Yes." I say. "I suppose."

A silence stretches between us. Elza looks at me in way she has been doing of late. As though I am an oddity, as though I can't be deciphered.

"Rumour has it that Ikeda was supplying at his last school." She says.

"_Supplying?_"

"Yeah, weed, I think and some of the heavier stuff if there was demand."

"A _drug_ dealer?"

"Aw, you sound so innocent sometimes."

X

H

X

That was the worst.

The monster was bizarre, a caricature, a joke. A – what did it say? Hurdler? I knew it was her, Elza, before I arrived last night behind the gym. I had this awful feeling you'd follow. The thought of your injury, I can't explain, it make me ill.

Forgive me, forgive me, forgive me.

The red-head was there, laughing, I don't suppose she really thought the athlete was a worthy target. But I know her. I know that the way she feels for you is, well, _pure_. I attacked the creature. Elza lay on her back, the light gone from her eyes. I walked over, reached for her heart crystal and – was slammed from the left.

I recall the blunt force against my head. The scraping of the earth along my side. The pain and the reminder of pain before. The creature hovering over. And then you.

You!

I broke from my paralysis, pushed myself upwards and launched myself at this stupidly grinning "Hurdler". I may as well have been an animal, certainly from the way you looked at me. The enemy disappeared. The red-head had already vanished. There was me, you, Elza (whose heart had been returned) and a hovering stick – a trinket – like mine, almost, but not mine. It was yours. You watched it like an apparition. I suppose it must have seemed as such.

I walked over. I knocked it away. You called "Stop." Asked who I was. I didn't answer. I picked up your trinket. It burnt in my hand. I ran until I was sure you were out of sight. You would need to look after Elza. You would have bigger things to worry about.

Out of breath and out of luck, I slumped against a dumpster and closed my eyes. The warmth of your trinket still pulsed in my hands. I guess it was unhappy to be apart from you. I suppose I could understand that. But you didn't recognise me. You didn't recognise me and I feel happier because of it. How could you ever endure me if you knew who I really was, if you knew how much I could take away from you?


	7. Chapter 7

_It is a vortex of a sky, bruised and rumbling and sunless – or is it moon-less? I can't say what time it should be. I watch this sky from where I am crumpled on the ground, shoved against something irregular, sharp. My body is broken. When the lightning flashes I find there are few patches of my skin still white and unbloodied, untainted by ash and dirt. My heart hammers. It isn't ready to give out. A word repeats in my mind, caught and looped like a song: "Uranus."_

_I am on my side. I look again at a glowing thing, a stick. It inexplicably hovers, emitting an aqua light. My vision blurs but I keep it in sight. I watch it like a last hope. I feel it warm me. Or is it is the feeling of leaving? Is this what dying feels like? The feeling spreads over me, but doesn't comfort. I'm not ready. There is a crash. A splintering of glass. I flinch painfully. There is a clatter-clatter-CLATTER ... I turn my head. I see knees, palms, a body._

"_Uranus." I speak._

_She staggers forward, her form utterly familiar yet moving in an unfamiliar way. The rhythm of her walk is forgotten. It is her back, I think, these are her elegant limbs, I think, this is her stubborn and beautiful body. She swipes at the glowing stick and falls to the ground again. She, lying on her opposite side, mirrors my position. Her chest moves up and down._

"_Uranus." I cry out._

_She watches me. Her mouth is open to breathe, not to speak._

"_Uranus."_

_I reach out. Glass falls from where it has been wedged in my arm. The sight makes me slightly ill. More so because I can't feel these injuries anymore. She just breathes, more haltingly now. She winces. She tightens her fist around the stick she has plucked from the air._

"_I'm sorry." She murmurs. She holds it out towards me, her arm trembling. "I'm sorry I couldn't…"_

"_Uranus!"_

I awake and find Elza already sitting upright. I wait a moment for the nightmare to dissolve. It does, but leaves a residue of panic. I guess we were both shaken by last night. I wonder if she has slept at all. She doesn't seem to remember anything. No floating gems. No hovering sticks. No fighting woman. No grotesque – _creature_ – for want of a better description. We went to sleep probably each trying to determine the sanity of the other. Her cuts are real though. Her bruising, consistent with being pushed to the ground, we can at least agree on that being something real.

"How are you feeling?" She asks staring, not at me, but the closed door of the room.

"I…" I don't want her to think me completely mad. "I had a dream. A bad dream, about what had just… about last night."

"Sugar, don't lie to me." She gives an odd little laugh.

"I'm not." I say.

She is getting up, pulling on a sweatshirt, reaching for her shoes.

"Where are you going?"

"A run I think… yeah, I think I need to clear my head."

"Now? With what just happened? Are you mad?"

"Are _you_?"

"Sorry?"

"You were calling out in your sleep." She said, now at the door.

"Oh… Elza, I know it's strange, but these dreams I've had, there's this person, this Ura-"

"Haruka." She cut me off. "You were calling out… _'Haruka'_."

I am stumped. And Elza is gone, the door clicking shut.

X

H

X

Ikeda has let me crash on his floor for a while. Unorthodox, sure, but no questions asked. Actually, he didn't say anything when I turned up. Let me sit at his desk. Took out some kind of disinfectant, taped up my arm. He forgave me for the car thing, apparently hadn't been in a chopper before. All I had to do was listen to him perform at his thing gig tonight. Fine. Good guy. Surprising he hasn't hooked up with one of the girls around here.

I needed to stay.

Truth is I couldn't face either of you after the other night. I keep having this hideous feeling that you recognised me, or something of me. And Elza? If I'd been there earlier, if I'd been faster she might've been better off. I can't eat. Couldn't sleep, but I'm thinking that will catch me up soon enough. I don't think Ikeda slept either, breathing didn't sound right.

I thought you'd be asleep when I came in the other night. Didn't expect to see you there on your own. Apparently Elza was running. Maybe she was okay? From your expression it didn't seem that way. You asked whether I'd been with Ikeda. I said I had. You said something weird about not letting him push me around. I think I laughed. The guy couldn't hurt a fly. You said you wished I would talk to you… so I got some clothes, shoved them in a bag and left. I guess I panicked. I just had no idea where to start. I didn't know where you were starting from either though so… I'm sorry. I'm sorry to be leaving you with nothing more than a poorly written journal. I hope you can understand sometime.

X

M

X

Elza did indeed settle a bit after her run, and after I had promised not to talk about _'the other night'_. I may have said something bitter about not being able to _ever_ say anything about _any_ night. She may have said something about that being entirely my choice. I couldn't leave it like that. Without her, without my "visitor's pass," I would be so much more alone. It's too hard to go back to being so alone.

Now I'm in the dress given to me for my birthday, the silky fabric is cool against my skin. I have put my hair up in a clasp with abalone detail. The necklace from Elza glints against my skin, a silent clue, a message I hope she will understand.

I head out. We find each other. She leads me down the corridor.

I have never seen the cafeteria so filled up. It is disordered now; a mess of cords follow a band set-up around which a cluster of chairs have been pushed. Not the logical rows of concerts I have performed in. I would have felt completely ridiculous in such formal dress were it not for Elza's delighted reaction. "Outstandin,' Honey, really, something outta this world!"

I may have blushed.

It may not have been the kind of concert venue I was expecting, but it was a date, I suppose. I took only a moment to find Haruka – _Tenoh_ – in the crowd. Tenoh. _Tenoh_. Honestly, since Elza's revelation this morning the name had started to play on my thoughts. The way it suited her. The way it might be whispered. Did Ikeda whisper it to her? I shiver at the thought.

We find some spare chairs on the opposite side to Tenoh. I don't dare suggest we sit closer by. Elza hasn't even seemed to notice that her roommate had gone awol. Then again, perhaps they have some dispute over something else entirely? I can always hope.

Ikeda speaks into a microphone that shrieks when he bends too close. The room rumbles to a respectable silence. Behind him are three others, an electric guitarist, a bass player and a drummer. They look a little bored.

"So now," Ikeda begins, "Thank you for coming out on a school night. Thought some of us should eh, make our presence heard," He interjects with some experimental tuning, "After all, we get such fine music ed round here…"

There is a ripple of dry laughter. He seems pleased with the sound his guitar makes. I think of Tenoh and her blood and her avoidance and I despise every word from this _leading man_. He thanks the band, who is not usually his, mentions some of the other players of the evening and begins strumming. The band awaits their cue. The sound expands and fills the room before Ikeda bends forward again, begins in his same defeated singing voice. We should know this one, he says, but please don't sing along just yet. More laughter. I sit and try not to hate him.

"My song is love,  
Love to the loveless shown,  
And it goes on…  
You don't have to be alone…"

I suppose it is pretty. I suppose it has a sad edge. Undoubtedly it is sung for Tenoh, his gaze rests always on her. A nasty feeling wells up in me. This guy who would leave her bruised and bleeding. What was this, a way to forgiveness? She doesn't watch him back. Maybe she has changed her mind? But she was with him just the other night. I snap out of my observations, hoping that Elza hasn't noticed.

"And I'm not gonna to take it back,  
Not gonna… say I don't mean that,  
You're the target that I'm… aiming at…"

A chair is pushed back. Tenoh bends forward, stands, walks out. Ikeda and the band play on, but I feel something drop away from his intent. _Please,_ I think, _Don't turn back to him!_ Elza sways a little beside me – she knows this one. I don't. I want to leave. I don't. The song runs its course with some of the students joining in towards the end, arms around each other. I think I may have seen a gay male couple. Gods. Who knows around here? Perhaps they're all high on something. And it's on a something I don't have.

The band's original singer, a student with long hair and orange skin and a screaming style, takes over. His presence is well received. The band, understandably, perk up too.

"I've just left something in your room," I lie to Elza, "I'll just be a moment."

I walk out, break into a run, reach the dorm room and find it empty. I hesitate, then approach Tenoh's bed. She keeps picking up that book from here. If there were something in it that –

"Looking for something, Mrs. American?" Ikeda, stands in the doorway. He doesn't look impressed.

What happens now I will think of later as something outside of me. What happens now I will blame on something else entirely. I stride right up to this man, pull my arm back and, with all the force of muscle and bone and anger, my hand swings out and collides and twists his jaw from left to right. It is a horrible clap. Fear and fury bubble up and send tears to my eyes.

"Why?" I hiss, "Why would you touch her like that? Her face! Her beaut-." I choke up.

What was I doing? Alone in a room with a… _drug dealer? _An abuser of women? Of women considerable stronger than myself, it might be added.

Ikeda is slow to move. When he does, he clicks his jaw, touches his lip, finds blood on his fingertip. It seems to bewilder him. I am actually shaking now. I need answers.

"Is it the drugs? Is she involved? What? Do you need money – If it's money I can-"

"Eh?" He looks at me blankly. "My, Mrs. American, you seem to know a bit about me."

"Don't call me that."

"Eh, Madam Butterfly, perhaps… with the American suitor?"

"Monster!" I push at his chest. _What am I thinking? _He steps back.

"Hey, whoa, wait, wait!" He holds up his hands.

"Should I!? I near shriek. "Do you stop for Haruka?"

"Ha – ruka…?" He says.

I curse myself. Tenoh. Tenoh, _Tenoh_.

"How much do you know about… Haruka, huh? Or do you just know how I got here?"

"I don't know how she got here."

Ikeda sighs. "Butterfly, I'm not guilty of what you accuse me of." He scratches his chin briefly, "well, dealing, yes, but that was some time ago."

"She's always injured." I say, beginning to cool down.

"I know."

"And she's with you so…" He really didn't seem to be threatening, I grow quieter, "how?"

"I don't know. She doesn't tell me that much."

"But you know why she's here?"

"Will you stop attacking me if I tell you?"

"I suppose." I sit on Haruka's bed. I feel bad. "Please." I offer a package of tissues from my handbag.

Ikeda presses one to his lip and sits down beside me.

"She had a friend at her last school. A girl in her year, quite pretty and softly spoken. Artistic too, I think. She also happened to be the school principal's daughter. They must have spent a bit of time together, I'm not sure exactly how it went down, but it was decided that it was better for Tenoh to move out of the area. They said it was for a sports scholarship, and that was probably true, but I could believe that that Principal had something to do with making it happen so quickly."

"They weren't just friends." I conclude more than ask.

"I don't think so." Ikeda says. "Anyway, this girl didn't take the separation very well. Perhaps she had a whole lot else going on with her parents but… anyway, they found her at her desk. She'd made ribbons of her wrists. She didn't leave a note."

"That's awful." I whisper.

"Yeah, so anyway, suddenly Tenoh is blocked from several schools in the area. The scholarship disappears and, well, what probably hit hardest was her being banned from the funeral. Perhaps all a bit too much. She may have smashed up one of her father's nicer Ferraris. But, y'know, as they say, the roads lead us to the right people, so…"

"That's so awful." I repeat.

I watch my hands. Realisation dawns slowly.

"So you two aren't…?"

Ikeda shakes his head, smiling perhaps a little painfully, "There's nothing there… at least not from her."

He stands up and scratches his head.

"I'm sorry." I say.

"Are you?" He walks to the door. "Does Miss America know?"

"…I?"

"Hey look, I've got to go," He rubs his forehead, "Think I had something spiked, tripping out, seriously."

"I thought you didn't do drugs anymore."

"I don't! Still, geez, must've been something, I swore, like just a moment ago, there was this little, " he taps his forehead and looks at me, "This like bright, forky thing, glowing on you head when you came at me."

"Oh, well then… probably a good idea if you get some water."

"Totally." He moves out of the door.

And I am alone. And so must Haruka be, somewhere in the night.


	8. Chapter 8

Have you visited Hiroshima? I've been thinking about it lately. It's beautiful along the river, so much more space than Tokyo and close to the sea too. I think you'd like it there, around Miyajima, the vermillion gates in the sea announcing the pagoda on the shore. I went when I was younger, twelve maybe, I had some time to kill while my parents were occupied with sorting out some deal or another. It was a bright day. I followed the tourists, boarded the tram and took the walk to see the Peace Memorial. I'll admit even now (especially now) that the apparition of the skeletal A-Bomb Dome leaves me shaken. Now it might be a fragment of one of my nightmares. It scares me that it can exist in both imagination and reality.

The Children's Memorial was my favourite. The booths surrounding the central monument were filled with an abundance of paper cranes in bright trusses. Thousands upon thousands of these wishes folded by the little hands of living souls, sending their prayers to children lost in the past. It was amazing to me, this greater wish, this endeavour for the spirits of strangers. One of those things that makes you believe in people again.

I recall these things now and think of two outcomes. In the first I get through all of this fighting and someday, during the next school vacation maybe, you and Elza and Ikeda and I will catch the train to Hiroshima. Maybe we'll stay on Miyajima, take the cable car and hike to the summit. You two can visit the lover's shrine on the way up. I'll content myself with walking somewhere up high, beyond the sight of skyscrapers.

In the second outcome I face reality. I know I won't make it through alive. The truth is I have felt death waiting at my shoulder for some time now. Death has twisted through my dreams, wrapped around my understanding until now; I think I can accept it will come soon.

If you read this will you fold a crane for me, wish me on my way?

I'm so tired these days I shouldn't mind. With the strange hours I keep and stranger thoughts in my head it's as though I've already left this world. It would be so much easier if it weren't for you. Something about you draws me in, makes me want to stay, reminds me of the beautiful things in the world.

If this is the last thing you read from me, please know that I found this place so much sweeter for you being a part of it.

Here's the part where it gets serious. Here's the part you need to know. They're going to take down the school. I am going to stop them. They've been bringing in explosives. All of those boxes they've been storing in the labs happen to contain just the right combination of chemicals to throw up Adachi Academy into one massive fireball. The entire lower level, all around the dorm area, up in flames.

I feel so stupid for not realising sooner. The last five targets have all been students. The redhead gave it away with the last target, a girl who was good at gymnastics, apparently. I think her words were:

"Too tiresome picking you off one by one."

They have it fixed that one of the targets is in the building. Fortunately Ikeda and Elza have been ruled out. I've been walking along the corridors in something of a daze since then wondering whether I was passing the one to be taken. It made me sick.

Anyway, the plan goes like this: at the next premonition of attack I'll secure the offices and trigger the bomb sirens. No way anyone could stick around at school whether or not they thought it was a drill. These sirens give off a mega sound. After that I'm going in, wherever the redhead is, I'm going for her. Then the plan has to start inventing itself.

X

M

X

I draw the bow across the body of the cello. It reverberates in a deep mournful tone. I play on. The music studio has been built to my specifications, a fourteenth birthday present. The carpet has been stripped away and floor boards, walls and ceiling are all a perfect white. There are no posters, paintings or unnecessary furniture to dampen the acoustics. It is on the top storey and the windows, including a skylight, let in a softly overcast morning. A snow-coloured Sunday sky. When I play, the vibrations move through my body into the space of the room and don't escape.

There is a light knocking at the door, it opens slowly and my mother appears.

"Liszt this morning?" She says.

I nod, silencing the cello.

"Darling, it's beautiful, but you've been up here almost four hours. Have you eaten today?"

"I will." I manage a smile.

"Do." She says. "You know, this nocturne is rather lovely with a piano accompaniment…" She raises an eyebrow.

I suppose it is only a little tease. I suppose it's a casual thing to say. It isn't really reasonable that tears should spring to my eyes at the mention. My mother steps into the room, crouches down in front of me looking concerned. Somehow that feels worse. I hug the cello against me.

"Oh, Darling, is it a boy?"

I close my eyes. I half laugh. The tears are hot down my face. It doesn't make any sense.

"No, I manage. No, it isn't a boy. It's…" I watch her worried face and falter, "It's just that I've not been sleeping too well of late."

"You push yourself too hard." She says, touches a hand to my cheek. "You don't need to look after these extra students, you know, they can fend for themselves."

"Can they?" I laugh. Then shake my head. "I'm fine, really, I'm alright. I haven't been visiting for a while. There's a sports exchange, Elza's out of town at the moment. She may be back today though…"

She doesn't seem to register anything at the name "Elza." She stands up, nodding to herself and moves to the doorway. She pauses.

"Whoever he is," she says, "Don't let him upset you too much. Young men never know what they're looking for until they're too old to get it."

I give another smile that I don't feel and she leaves. I replace the bow on the ground, settle the cello and walk over to the window. I truly love this room. Elevated as it is, looking through the skylight on a clear day feels like I could be floating. I lie these days. The trouble with poor sleeping patterns isn't a lie. The sports exchange was though. We'd had a fight. Following the concert Elza had become more and more agitated about Haruka (I have given in to thinking of her as "Haruka"). However much I tried I couldn't bring out a relatable explanation. Elza would surely think of me as mad.

The truth was it wasn't just dreams of death and destruction that she populated. There were others, so sweet and so intense and _real_ that I woke up with my heart racing. I awoke with a blissful feeling. When I happened to see her, Haruka, in the corridor, outside the gymnasium, I blushed. I just didn't quite believe that these were simple dreams! I still don't. She never stopped though. She didn't return from her stay with Ikeda.

I was finding it harder to spend the night with Elza. The last time, after she had fallen asleep, I got up to find some water or air, or for some other invented reason. I walked out along the corridor, looked down to the courtyard and saw the strangest thing. Haruka, crumpled against one of the benches, completely naked in the moonlight. I thought I had been hallucinating and I _must_ have, because when I looked down again she was still there, but dressed in her running gear. Had she been out for a jog at this hour? She walked away, well, hobbled really. Before she got to the stairs she looked back at me. She said nothing. Then she left.

I went into the shared bathroom. I splashed water on my face. I watched my reflection. I heard the door open. Haruka's face appeared in the mirror.

"Are you really there?" I said.

"I'm here."

"Am I going mad?"

"No." She said.

My heart was hammering. I watched her only in the mirror, holding onto the basin.

"Why can't I stop dreaming about you?" I whispered.

I felt her hand on my arm. I closed my eyes and held my breath. I became wrapped in that same blissful feeling. My sleep-starved mind gave in to visions of her and I in expansive gardens and yellow-lit ballrooms and velvet-curtained sleeping quarters. Her skin was scented with sandalwood. Her eyes were as intense then as they are now.

She let go. I opened my eyes and we were back in the blue-light of the bathroom. I turned to face her; my hands were unsteady as I lifted them to her face.

"Michiru," she whispered. My name. My name in her voice… I froze.

"The book." She continued. "If anything happens, I've left you the book."

I watched her eyes, dark, her lips, just parted. Then she walked away.

Always away.

Somehow I mentioned this unexpected meeting with Elza. I think that triggered the fight. She said something about chasing a shadow. I said something about needing space. I would see her again in a week. It seemed to put out the fire of her anger. I felt awful, really I did, but it was all true. I needed space. And time. And something I just couldn't grasp… sanity perhaps.

It is time now, a week has passed. I should speak with her. Liszt didn't help. Vivaldi was no use. All I can say for certain is that it isn't a good time to be in a relationship. And I may be, to a significant extent, losing my grip on reality.

I don't expect to find the school the way I do. On a Sunday when the air should be sparkling with the sounds of leisure, Adachi academy is awash with panic. A cruel siren calls out again and again like a lost creature. Students everywhere are covering their ears, pushing each other and moving out towards the sports fields. There is a teacher with a handheld loudspeaker giving directions.

"Whatcha doin' here, Sugar?" Elza grabs my arm, pulls me in line with the evacuating crowd.

"I came," I look around, not seeing Haruka, "I wanted to see you – what's going on?"

"Drill I think, but usually we get some notice, c'mon."

I follow. There is a kind of assembly of students swarmed by members of the teaching staff calling out names. Names I don't know. I settle down with Elza who raises her hand at the mention of "Gray."

"Tenoh?" The same teacher continues, "Tenoh Haruka, same room number?"

I look around. No response.

"Ten-"

There is a blast. A massive noise, deeper than a timpani, wilder as a hurricane. The sirens are silenced. A rush of heat passes across us. Nobody speaks to see the giant mass of red engulf the school. The second explosion elicits shocked cries from the crowd. The roll-calling teacher drops her clip-board.

I stand up. I run out towards the building. Elza's calls fall away into the distance. I keep running.

The ash – I feel it in my lungs, I try to cough it out, but the air -all air- all matter, all of myself and my thoughts seem to be part of it. Burnt beyond recognition. My ears understand only a steady keening. I don't hear my feet as I stumble onwards, grasp for the handle, its form is cold and thankfully familiar. I pull it down, the door gives way and I collapse into the room. I cough. I cough and cough and taste blood and watch my hands (scratched, bleeding) flat against the tatami. They leave crimson prints. I crawl the next few feet, make it to the bed and, without reason, grasp the pillow. I drop my face into it, inhale the scent, and begin another coughing fit.

It is almost accidentally that my hand finds the corner of the book. I pull myself into a seated position; use all my will to regain a regular rhythm to my breathing (this isn't the time to stop). My vision is blurring and I think of this; it was kept under her pillow, a child's hiding place.


	9. Chapter 9

Fire engines wail in the background. I stay where I am on the bed. I press a trembling index finger against the edge of the book cover and flip it open. Words, horrific and beautiful and bizarre and painfully familiar, these words are scrawled in her hand. I read them all. Then I read again. From outside come the dull sounds of architecture groaning and collapsing. The fire doesn't enter the room. I think the heat eases little. 'Trinket', she kept writing trinket. I turn, grasp, pick the pillow up entirely and it is there, aqua and gold and waiting. Old friend. I reach out towards it and the glow increases. I hesitate, _The healing happens faster_ she'd written. I touch it and…

Oh…

A white light fills the room; more spectacular, more eternal than fire. I am lifted from the ground. Nothing hurts anymore. I am wrapped, spun, wound up and released. I open my eyes. The far corners of my memory are unlocked to distant battles and royal duties, to gatherings of women and strategies and training. I remember it all and I am strong and standing. I am a daughter of Neptune.

I rush out from the room I need to jump to reach ground level. Somehow I achieve it. The air still exhales an oppressive heat. Uranus - she must be on the basement level. From the descriptions it seemed that the enemy (_'enemy'_, was I already thinking this way?) was located in the downstairs laboratories. I can't see a way through to the entrance. She must, _must_, still be alive. I keep running into the clearing of the courtyard. Fire surrounds me. The smoke is worse. How quickly a familiar scene can be crushed! Dreadful. I cough and continue until I come across a silhouette. An apparition? No. A tall woman, standing, waiting.

"Kaioh Michiru," She speaks in a mellow tone, she smiles in a way I feel I know. Her long hair flows in the waves of heat. She must be like me, someone, something different. "It's good to see you. We'd better hurry."

She holds a staff with both hands. I walk up to her (what else can I do?). I feel safer in her presence. She twists her staff in the air, says something I will forget instantly. Another light. Then darkness. My eyes adjust slowly.

"Who's that? Who's there?"

That voice!

"Uranus?" I call. There is a strange metallic echo.

"Who are you?" She sounds hoarse.

"Uranus." I move towards her. "It's me I've…"

Something grabs me by the ankles. I'm pulled forcefully to the right. I am wrapped across the torso. My back collides with something cold and hard. I am bound and bound again. I can barely breathe.

"Haruka?" I whisper.

"Michiru?"

"I came, " I struggle slightly, "here with this woman but… I'm not sure where-"

"Was she a red head?"

"No, not the 'red head'."

"Oh." She says.

"Where are we?" I can pick out light slowly. A bolt. Some pipes? There's a scent of stagnant water, of mildew, perhaps.

"I think," I hear her struggle again. I wish I could see her face. "I think they built a kind of bunker. The red head is working for a professor type. They must have been using the labs. They're all so weird looking. And there was this little kid."

"No," I whisper, "She isn't one of the…"

"I don't know. I don't think so. She seems to belong to the professor. She doesn't look well though."

"How awful." I want to reach out and free my arms. Whatever is holding me back is thick and strong as tyre rubber. I stop trying.

There is barely any sound, but the dripping of water somewhere. It's cold, much colder than the blazing heat above. I wonder where the other woman is. I wonder whether the diary I read was true. The darkness stretches between us.

"I wish you'd just spoken to me." I said. "I thought I was going mad, you know?"

"I'm sorry."

"You're clearly not coping!"

"I know."

"I thought you were in an abusive relationship with Ikeda!"

She laughs. "I know." He mentioned it. I said it was stupid that you thought I was involved. Except _then_ he asked whether I was with a woman and I said no he got this dopey, y'know, gooey look and tried to.."

"Did he kiss you?"

"No! I didn't let him get that far. I warned him that if he did I'd get you to hit him again."

"Oh, he told you that much."

"You busted his lip!"

"I was scared for you. Don't joke."

"I'm touched." She says.

"You're better in writing." I respond.

She laughs."A regular Shakespeare, huh?"

"You seem to be more truthful in written form."

"Who knows what's true anymore?"

There is a flash of light in the room. I stiffen. The woman, the same woman as before looks over at me. She points her staff within inches of my face. I am too shocked to cry out. With a violent swipe, she cuts me free. I fall to the ground. She does the same for Uranus then comes to my aid, helps me to stand.

"Neptune," she smiles, "always so good to see you, my friend." She looks close to embracing me and I think I would allow it, but then she turns away.

"And _you_." She says to Uranus. "Do you _eve_r get more difficult with every time cycle."

"Get outta here, Plutonium. I've got things to sort out!"

"It'd not 'Plutonium', as you well kno-"

"Whatever, Hydrogen, Helium, Boron, Carbon…"

"Marvellous that they've managed to teach you something."

"Actually "Boron" is quite good, what do you think?"

"Tenoh, get a grip!" The woman interjects. "What on earth do you think you were doing trying to evade your partner in such an exercise? You put the entire planet at risk!"

"Titanium, do you ever feel you might be getting a tad dramatic in your senior years."

The woman, now referred to as most of the periodic table, looks over to me. "Whatever you see in her , I simply can't imagine."

"I…"

"What?" Uranus asks.

"Neptune, Uranus, you'll have to excuse me a moment. Those inners!"

"Inner what?" Uranus calls to a vacuum. The dark-haired woman is gone. My eyes have adjusted. And I can make out the shape of my fellow prisoner. _We were meant to work together._ This pull has always been real.

I feel around the walls for the exit. I hear her do the same. I fumble, catch her on the shoulder. I leave my hand there. I wish I could see better.

"The other students, did they…?"

"I think so. I think they're okay." I answer.

"The school?"

"I think the Academy will be closed for a while yet."

"Huh." She laughs. "No loss there. And Gray, she's okay?"

"She… I saw her briefly."

"She's been in one _bad_ mood of late! Won't even look at me."

"Oh, that may be my fault. Actually… I came here today to break things off with her."

"You what? _Why?_ You both seem so - "

"It's not so simple."

"It's totally simple. _She's_ total-"

"Haruka," I cut her off. The situation with Elza still overwhelms me, "how am I supposed to be… intimate with someone I'm hiding half of myself from?"

"I didn't want it to come to that."

"I _know_ that. But what you do or don't tell me is hardly going to change that. I still have the dreams. I still feel these connections to somewhere else, something _other_… it's not for you to try and hold me back from… _me_."

"You're not a killer."

"And you are? I have to say from what I've seen you appear to be taking more beatings than dealing them out!"

"Then maybe you should-"

Beyond footfalls sound and get louder, a group. There are voices, groaning, howling; they can't be human. A feeling like ice water rushes over me. What could make such a sound? Neither of us speak. _They're coming for us._ There is a welling inside of me, adrenaline, or maybe something more… an energy. I clench my fists. Stand facing the direction of the noise. I sense the same tension from Uranus. _We're a team_, I think,_ we were always meant to work together._ Perhaps a blind faith, but what else is there left?

There is a _boom_, a shudder from behind where the door must be. Another. I try not to jump at the sound. Another one and cracks of light appear in the frame. The voices, hideous, chaotic. My hands are shaking. With a colossal crash, the door flies in and sends us to the ground. We are separated. I get to my feet. Creatures, awful and white and stretching for us! The welling inside me grows stronger. An energy crackles in my hands.

A power, ages old, overcomes me. I hold on to it, call for it, feel it run through me, growing richer. I throw out my arms and let go. A coursing orb flies out into the field of terrible bodies. Phenomenal! It blasts a path through to a view of the passage beyond. _I _did this. I am momentarily stunned. Then Uranus attacks. She gathers something like lightning in her fist, raises it over her head and slams it to the ground. Incredible! One handed even! There isn't time for self-congratulations. The monsters are quick to regroup, look over and lurch forward.

We fight back.

I attack with my legs and fists and wits. When I manage it I use the greater power. Uranus is a hurricane of a fighter, really she is. One enemy down and the next is being dealt to. She defends me on numerous occasions. I'm proud to say I do the same. I stop a wild arm at her back, I kick away vicious jaws at her legs. I fight until it's hard to breathe.

I'm on my last legs when she shows up, the red-head. The creatures wilt away at her sneered command. Uranus, bent forward, hands on knees while she breathes heavily, manages to raise herself to give a look of absolute disdain.

The redhead laughs. "Oh, so glad you brought a friend!"

"Yeah? You shouldn't be. This friend of mine packs a punch." She pauses, wipes blood from her mouth. "I see you've brought toys. What's this then, a giant hair-dryer?"

"Ugh!" The redhead responds. "You clearly don't know advanced technology when you see it! Enough chatter!" She snaps her fingers.

Two white creatures reanimate and launch in my direction. I'm too exhausted. They wrap around, drag me back to the pipe I had previously been released from. The sensation is sickening. Uranus receives the same treatment.

"What is this?" I cry out. "Why are you wasting your time on us? We're all going for the same target?"

"Ah, haha…" the woman twirls the 'giant hairdryer'. "Your friend asks a good question! Why indeed…?"

"Save the pleasantries!" Uranus interrupts.

"No, no I won't. If only because you'll find this one _rather_ interesting…"

"Go on, shock me."

"Ugh," the woman says again, making a face. "I'm going to enjoy this. Well now, we've met rather a few times, haven't we?"

Uranus grits her teeth but doesn't answer. _Oh no,_ I think, _no she doesn't mean…_

"I thought it was so weird that my calibrations should be off. There was a definite spike every time we went for a target. How odd that none of them turned out to bear fruit!"

"I'm falling asleep over here." Uranus groans.

"Hah," the other woman smiles to herself. "You'll sleep soon enough."

She walks over to Uranus. I find the strength to struggle again. But struggle is all I do. The binding is too strong. Panic overcomes me. The thing she carries is pointed at Uranus's chest.

"You're wasting your time."

Tears blur my vision. In my heart, I know this woman isn't wrong.

"Am I? Well I do hope you've enjoyed your stay at Adachi Academy, Ms Tenoh. Such a pity we had to cut it short!"

A blast. I think I scream, but the sound is drowned out. The world fades. We have been separated. Haruka's eyes are closed, her body limp where it is tied to the pipe. It's horrible, _horrible_! Why my heart hasn't stopped I'm not sure. Then, the awful inevitable thing, brightness, a crystal like Elza's only it gives out this purest white light. I close my eyes a moment and it is gone. A beautiful sword, the treasure of her soul, glistens in the gloom of the space.

The woman looks interestedly at her gun. I don't care. She looks over at me. What is there to lose? _My parents, Elza, Ikeda… _She walks up, raises the weapon to my chest. She smirks. I think I hear the woman from before. If she says something, I don't hear it. I look over to Haruka. _Come and find me,_ I think, _promise to find me sooner next time_.


	10. Chapter 10

The sky is so bright, milky and beautiful.

"Oh," I say.

"Oh – oh - - oh," echoes back to me.

How curious! I have been lying down - I must have been sleeping. Goodness, sleeping outside? But the grass is lovely, soft, perfectly tended to. Surely there must be a gardener? I look around and see no one. No one and nothing. Not a building, not a car, not a bench or streetlight. There are a few trees, though they don't cluster and wouldn't hide anything. When I get up I notice I am barefoot. I am barefoot and my dress – the one I put on this morning – has lost all of its colour, now white as the sky.

There is a faint smell of spring flowers, though I can't see any and it isn't spring, or is it? I make the decision and walk towards the trees. Even the sound of my feet on the ground ripples in the air. Nothing and no one and yet I don't mind. When I try to picture the faces of those I want to see, they grow murky, warped; reflections on an agitated surface. I begin to wonder if there was ever anyone but me. Someone must have made this dress – or did I?

I realise I have been walking some time and the trees aren't getting any closer, truth be told, it seems they are painted onto the sky. How strange. If they are painted, there must be a surface. If there's a surface, there must come an end. I continue. The air moves gently, not hot, not cold. There are no insects, no buzzing, just the sound of me; my breath, my feet, my strange white dress rustling as I move.

The new sound comes as a wonderful surprise, like a clarinet in a symphony (where did that come from?) It is a humming, a thud-thud-thudding. I laugh and the air laughs back at me. I run towards this other sound and there it is!

A someone.

The someone sits with their back to me. They have thin shoulders, a white shirt and hair the colour of the sun. They are humming a song, the tune of which waits at the edge of my memory.

I approach and sit beside the someone; they don't seem to mind. The thud-thud is from the someone's heels, which bounce against the ground in a distracted way. They turn to look at me.

"Haruka." I say instinctively.

The person tilts their head and smiles. "Yes? Is that me?"

"I think so," I say, "And I am…" I lose my words. "I don't know. How funny!"

It is funny. We laugh for a moment, or maybe a day, and the sound bounces back, starting the joke again and again, like splashes from a waterfall.

"It's fine," says Haruka, "It's very simple. I am called 'Mi' and you are called 'Yu'.

"So I am Yu?"

"Yes," she says, "Then we can always know."

"How long is always?" I ask.

"Well, as long as we are here."

"How long have you been here?"

"I'm not sure, but I don't remember anywhere else."

"Oh," I say, "oh," and tears spring to my eyes and they fall and fall and make a sound like thunder. But I can't explain them.

"You're raining," says Mi.

"Yes," I say, "Isn't it strange?"

Mi looks up at the sky. There is a black patch growing, expanding like spilt ink. It stretches and melts the white of the sky and little points of light prick through. _They are… they are the scars in the sky…? _

"I have to go now," says Mi and she gets to her feet.

"Oh," I say, "Please don't."

She smiles and puts a hand on my head and looks above her.

"What is 'don't'?"

Before I can answer she has jumped up, leapt, and nothing, not gravity nor wind nor the force of my wishing prevents her ascent. She gets smaller and smaller in my vision until I can't distinguish her form from the twinkling little lights.

Air floods my lungs. Light, warm, true light rushes in to distort my sight. I am in my room, in my bed. It could be afternoon. I breathe out and - _oh_ - there is pain. Rippling and rising pain. My chest feels irreparably crushed; I could have been strung up as a punching bag and felt better. I cough. Somehow I can still taste smoke. With every little movement a new injury is discovered. Bruising, torn muscle, raw flesh; I will survive. It is my next thought that sends me wishing for unconsciousness to return, or at least a return to that strange dream location.

_Free me of these pains and absolve me of my sins. Wipe away my memory for it is here that Haruka loses the light in her eyes. It is this place that she leaves me. _

I sit up, cringing through the sharp and dull pains. I put my hands to my eyes, gasp as though air is scarce; weep as though the world has ended. No consolation in safety or familiarity. I am lost in sadness, drowning.

It isn't long before the noise attracts footsteps. My mother comes in to the room and – shockingly – my father follows. He looks ruffled, clothes unusually creased. I think he is wearing a sweater I had bought him. I sniff. I try to gather myself. My mother rushes to me.

"Oh darling!" She holds my face, "Is it the pain? Shall I call…?"

"No, no." I say. _There is no doctor. No fixing this._ "Hello?" I look up to my father.

"Hello, trouble." He breaks into a smile, blinking a little too often. "Do you ever cause your mother grief?"

"So it would seem." I say, swallowing down the word grief.

"I hear you ran in to save a friend, what on earth were you thinking?"

I can't stop myself. I start to try and explain and begin to cry again. "I thought I could… that I could… _help_."

And what help had I been after all? All the power and hope invested in me and what had I done? My parents stay with me for some time, ask too often whether I am hungry (no) or thirsty (all the time) and calm me back to sleep. I awake sometime the next morning to a foreign sound. Elza? My mother? I can't make out words, but the voices are certainly raised. What can it be? My heart pounds. They draw closer, footsteps louder.

"Is that what it takes?" Elza's voice, "What if I were a husband, huh? A _boy_friend?"

"_Please_, she's just sleeping at the-"

The door to my room crashes open, hits loudly against the wall. I flinch. Elza pauses in her tirade, her face awash with concern. My mother follows at a little distance. They are in the same space, in _my_ space. I am breathing quickly, panic taking over.

"Oh, darlin' what's happened, huh?" Elza drops down beside the bed, kisses my face.

I am too shocked to respond. I look to my mother, she turns, arms folded, looking to the window as though some great abuse has been done to her.

"Elza," I manage, "Elza wait, I…"

"I'll be downstairs." My mother walks out. My chest aches.

We listen for the footfalls as they grow quieter.

"She wanted to keep me out!" Elza starts.

"She was only trying to look after me."

"What to save you from – "

"_No,_ probably so that I could get enough rest to re-join… the living."

"Been a bit zombified, on your meds, huh?"

"I don't think I've had anything…"

"You don't? Honey, you were sure rigged up to some good lookin' stuff."

"When? What happened?"

"Sunday. Bombs went off on Sunday."

"What day is it today, then?"

"Thursday."

"Oh."

"Honestly, when I saw you I was sure you were done. A goner. Don't know how they scraped you out but they did…"

"Who did?"

"Not sure. This woman with a baby."

"Someone from the school?"

"No, it was weird, definitely not one of the teachers, I thought she must have been nuts taking a little kid into that kind of situation…"

_Or out of it, I wonder?_ I close my eyes. My head spins.

"The woman, did she have long - really long - dark hair?"

"She did, yeah, someone you know?"

"I'm not sure," I say honestly, "Elza?" I swallow.

"Yeah?" She says softly. It only makes this feel worse.

"What happened with… with Haruka?" I don't change her name. It feels wrong to do so now. I think of Ikeda's story of her, how she was denied the right to send off her deceased lover. Is that how I see myself? How I think of her?

Elza adopts the same quiet look of my mother's. Hurt.

"I don't know, to be honest. I haven't heard anything. We've all been reallocated to different schools, hostels. They're pretending that we'll be giving the final exams a good go. Pretending it's all a minor set-back.

"So… nothing?"

"I'm sorry. I liked her too, y'know? I'm hoping she used the whole thing to get away to some tropical island or something. Took that damn noisy bike a million miles from here."

"Sounds good," I whisper, "Thank you."

Elza watches me for a while, smiling in that same unhappy way. Then she sighs, runs a hand over my hair. I close my eyes, and take a moment to enjoy this small feeling of familiarity. _Another goodbye._

"The thing is, I came here with this speech in mind. Got real fired up, y'know?" She sits on the edge of my bed. "I was going to wake you like Prince Charming, or somethin', I was going to tell you I'd been called back home after the school went up in flames. I was gonna say how they could all go to hell, how I didn't need a school to keep me here, and how I was old enough, I could find a place, and anyways I was… in love… with this girl. With you."

She pauses, looks over cautiously. I'm not shocked. I'm not overwhelmed, I just look back.

"_But_… you were already awake and – I guess – you weren't waiting for me. You were always waiting for someone else, so…"

"Elza, it didn't feel like that – "

"No, no look, it's okay, it's okay to know and I can go and – we'll write won't we? – You've got to keep me updated on this crazy country and, y'know, Ikeda…" She gets up.

She smiles in the saddest way I've ever known.

"I'll miss you I say."

"Yeah," she walks to the door, "I've been missing you for a while."

Elza leaves. Time and misery swirl around my bed. Even if I were able, I don't think I want to get up. I don't want to wander through a strange and ignorant world. I fall into a dreamless sleep. I am awoken by my mother with a tray of soup and rice. The smells are too intense. I am overfilled with sadness; I have no space for anything else. She sits on my bed all the same and we watch the night air play with the curtains, revealing and concealing a sky salted with stars.

"You never told me you had… someone special."

"I'm sorry." I say. The thick depression that had grown over me dulls these other things; fear, shame, physical pain. "We've broken up if that helps."

"Oh," says my mother, "Oh was that…?"

"My decision." I say. "Well, in as much as any of these things are as simple as a decision."

"There's someone else?"

"There," I swallow, "I suppose, yes, someone else." Neptune. I guess I will learn to think of her as someone else, an apparition to wash away in my memory.

"Also not a man?"

"Also not a man." I confirm.

"Oh." She says, looking outside again.

"I'm sorry she barged in like that. She can be a little bit…"

"American?"

"Very." I confirm.

We laugh. I feel a little warmer, a little closer to being human. We talk a bit. My mother with stories of her first boyfriend, of my father's methods of wooing. Just as I feel closer to sleep she presents the card.

"Perhaps tomorrow," my mother says lightly, "Perhaps you'd like to write a thank you note? That woman was so lovely waiting with you at the hospital…"

"Which woman? Who?" My heart pounds. _Could she still be…?_

"Meioh Setsuna," my mother reads out, "I asked for her business card, she seemed happy enough that you contact her…"

"She had long hair? That was her?"

"Yes, she did, yes, a lovely-looking woman. Beautiful little baby too, such big eyes." My mother pauses, a suspicious look growing. "She's not your…?"

I am stumped. Could she know, did I somehow reveal the content of my dreams? Did she see me as Neptune and...?

"You're not seeing a… _married_ woman are you?"

"Sorry?"

"Michiru, I would have thought you had been brought up better than to break up a – "

"Mother, no." I actually break into a smile. "No, she's an old friend."

The dubious expression doesn't leave. I have to stop myself from laughing.

"She's lovely," I say, nodding slowly, "only, not really my type."


	11. Chapter 11

Dear Elza,

I hope this finds you well, if it finds you at all. I will await your letter and address in America. I do hope you write. I am so sorry that we left on such terms and that you felt alone while we were together. I would like to explain, but can only say that though it does involve Haruka, it isn't so simple. We were never connected in the way you imagine. It's a kind of duty, a handed down responsibility that we shared. Nothing more than the misfortune of being born into certain families. That being said, it put me in no position to be attempting a relationship. I'm truly sorry.

When I was with you I was happy.

When we were all together it felt true.

I'm about to leave to visit the woman you mentioned, Meioh Setsuna, the one who found me. I hope she can clarify some things, perhaps give me some closure. I'm wearing black; black dress, black silk scarf, black heels that catch the sun – the ones you said you liked. My mother was not impressed by the choice not to wear flats 'in my condition', but fashion has no time for injury! I wish it were a fashion statement. In the first instance I was set on a blue summer dress, one too beautiful to allow for terrible news. In the end, it seemed more important not to appear disrespectful in mourning. The truth is I'm not so sure about your motorbike story. For a start I don't think she would have got far in her state. I used to think it a macabre art, this habit, this need we have to view a body. I've changed my mind. It's a confirmation, isn't it? Alive or dead. Dead or alive. I think I will go mad if I can't find out. I may go mad once I have an answer anyhow.

I met Meioh Setsuna only briefly, but I trust that she will be gentle, that she won't turn me away. I can't remember feeling so alone as I do now. I think of it and it feels like such a brief twinkling thing, the time with you and at the academy. I sometimes remember that beautiful pool and imagine what it must look like now; the water black with ash. A tar pit. The remaining walls charred and the waiting hum of it deadened.

I'm sure your parents and friends will be happy to see you, even if it isn't quite to plan. It must be lovely in the sun. Perhaps, should sanity remain intact, I will visit you one day. Maybe I'll meet these parents of yours who don't mind the gender of your partner. I had quite a talk with my mother after you left. She actually didn't find you offensive! A miracle! (I'm joking) It was a kind of relief. She spoke to me about her old boyfriends as though it were all the most normal thing in the world. It was almost unbelievable. There was a sting though. She asked that I avoid a similar conversation with my father; that he had enough on his mind to worry about. It left me a little cold. I don't know. I suppose there's no one to discuss anyway. I don't envision there being one either. And there are always men. I bet you're making a face right now. I'm missing it. It's selfish, I know, but I wish I could have kept you here as a friend.

I hope you are having a marvellous time where the sun is strong,

xxx

Michiru

X

H

X

Soldier's log (mental notation as hand appears to be bandaged.)

Day something like maybe 4 or 10.

I have had a lot of tranquil… tranca… drugs. They go from my arm to my brain and make me sleep.

Weather, indoors: foggy.

Weather, outdoors: unknown.

Plan of attack: Sleep.

I think the building I'm in is on a cliff. The wind and water sound near. The wind howls and the infant howls and I fall into dreaming. Whether awake dreaming or asleep dreaming, it is unclear. The other morning I swore I saw a dinosaur sitting on the chair in the room. On great shining green form in the white of the room. I may have attempted a conversation. I may have asked rather forcefully what part he had taken in the injury to my arm. Then I'd laughed for a long time realising dinosaurs were too old, pre-language, and would not understand what I was saying. Then I was very, very tired.

"Is it Spring? Is it Spring?" A voice asks.

I smile because that sounds like my name. Spring (Haru) Is it? (Ka) I swallow, and my mouth is very dry and I open my eyes to the doctor who is also my friend. She keeps reminding me and looking sad.

"Morning." I say. "Where's the baby?"

"Hotaru's just sleeping."

"Oh right," I say, "good idea."

"Haruka?"

"Mmm."

"We have a visitor. I need you to stay awake for a while. We're doing some tests."

We? Right, there's a nurse type of person in the room. She's cute and holding a board and looking very, very serious.

"Oh, you need these?" I try and pull the tube at my arm, but my doctor-friend stops me. "You can have them, I feel fine now."

"You're not fine."

"I am so, _so_ fine." I assure them.

"Sorry, excuse me," goes the nurse, "Do you know what day it is?"

"Christmas, or a bit before then?"

"And your name, please?"

"I have a lot of names." I say helpfully (because she is cute), "Shall I put them together?"

"Please."

"So like, Tenoh, is like King, then also I have another name…"

"Go on."

"So basically I'm the King of Uranus."

"Please… _don't_ write that down." Says the Doc. _Setsuna_. I _knew_ I knew that one!

"I think we need to lower the dosage." Says the nurse.

"But the pain do you think she will…"

"It's fine," I say, "Fine, fine, fine… I'm a bit tired now. Can the dinosaur show you out?"

There might be more tests, but I can't remember them. Damn, it's not Christmas is it? Fail. Failed the test. Maybe I get a resit? I dream about exams, the ones I haven't studied for yet, except they all get made easier because everything turns to Phys. Ed. And I get to vault the signs of equations and run across the lines of essays and I beat everyone and win everything even with no study.

I awake in pain. The mist clears.

My arm throbs. I look down, find it in a sling, and that I can't check the movement of my fingers for all the bandaging. Not happy about that. Why wasn't I healing quickly? Had we won the battles? Or lost? I sit up quickly and my head spins. This room – I've been in it for a while – whose is it though? Is this Setsuna's house? There's a knocking at a door. Not mine. Footsteps, clicking of a latch, voices. The voices continue for a while; a long conversation that moves around the house. There is a sound like a kettle that blurs the voices.

Is it you?

I strain to hear but can't quite. I pray like anything that it is you and that you are safe and…

Footsteps draw close. I hold my breath. I use my good hand to try and flatten my hair a bit, push it out of my eyes. The door creaks open. There is Setsuna.

"Finally decided to wake-up, huh? Seem to have a sixth sense for certain things." She smiles.

"I wouldn't mind losing a few senses just right now." My voice has reduced to a kind of growl. I try to clear my throat.

Then you walk in.

You limp a little. You are lovely in black and, at the point of seeing me, you put your hand to your mouth and your eyes well up.

And you are here

and safe

and alive.

I look at Setsuna, "She's here, isn't she? You see her too?"

Setsuna puts an arm around you, and you lean into her. I feel something like jealousy. I want to get up too but my body won't allow it.

"She's all here. More than I can say for you."

"You're suggesting I'm… _'non compos mentis'_?"

"I am." She says, stroking your hair, "But that was the case _before_ any ridiculous acts of daring that may have lead you to this state."

"You're hurt." I say to you. I feel so bad. If I'd never written that stuff down, if I'd just left you alone.

You step forward. There's a definite limp. You walk towards me and sit so carefully on the edge of my bed, tears streaming down your face. And you smile. And I feel myself do it back, feel the muscles pull as unstoppably as when I was maxed out on painkillers. It is only brief, but the thought crosses my mind, _Whatever this feeling, it is the simplest thing in the world._

You're safe. You're here.

"I thought I'd lost you forever." You whisper. "Setsuna told me about… why are so difficult?"

"About what? I can't remember anything. Don't listen to her." I glare at Setsuna who remains, arms folded.

"I'll just go and see to Hotaru." Says my nemesis.

"Wait," I call back, "Why does my arm hurt? Why aren't we healing?"

"You are healing."

"Not fast."

"You have a fracture."

"But I need my arm – I'm _very_ right handed!"

"Just as well it's still attached then. We've been rather more concerned with your vital organs."

"Pretty sure those are fine." I raise an eyebrow.

You laugh a little. It sounds like summer rain.

Setsuna walks out to wherever the baby's room must be. You take my other hand and all of my attention. You don't speak at first; just watch me as though I could disappear if unguarded (I wish). What am I even wearing, I wonder?

"It's okay," You say, "Setsuna says we're without our… other abilities… at the moment because we don't need them. The threat is off, at least for now."

"Seriously? So quickly?"

You smile again, and incline your head.

"Do you remember… you were… shot?" You ask.

"Yep." I say. "Pretty memorable, I think I still have a scar…" I take my hand, loosen the top few buttons of the shirt I've been put in, and find a gauze dressing at the centre of my chest."

"Right there," you say, "That is where the second talisman came from."

"The _second_?"

"Setsuna held the first."

"You're kidding? Her? What's her great claim to fame? Purely obnoxious?"

"She's a good friend. She's been watching you for a long time."

"I guess so." I shake my head. I still can't believe I'm seeing you. "And the third?"

You take my hand, hold it against you heart. I might have guessed.

"It was a mirror." You say. "Once the three were together, Pluto was able to get them to the girl who needed them. We can trust her. For now, it's over.

"Just about." Setsuna's voice interrupts from the doorway, Hotaru is in her arms. Then she looks at us. "_Haruka!_ You're barely conscious and you have you hand on… "

"Whoa," I pull it away, "we were just talking it…"

"_Un_- believable."

You get up, laughing, and walk over to Hotaru.

"Good morning." You speak quietly, stroking her hair.

Hotaru gurgles in response.

"This is Tomoe Hotaru," Setsuna introduces, "She may not look like much now, but she's a very important member of our team."

"The soldier of destruction," you say, still looking at her with utter adoration. "May I?"

Setsuna carefully transfers the pink-wrapped bundle into your arms. I wish I could get out of this bed. You look so peaceful. Little hands snatch at your hair. You attention elicits happy chirps. _The simplest thing in the world._

"I have to go in a few days." Setsuna says, "There are things ahead that I need to see to. Presently, You both are more important, _more necessary_, than Uranus and Neptune. Hotaru needs to be taken care of until the Professor has recovered. Without awakening to her other powers, she has the same needs as any other baby, probably more, in the absence of her parents. The truth is, right now we can't be certain that there won't be further attempts to take her. One battle won, but it's only the first, I can assure you. We need to protect her. She has a power greater than any of us might imagine. I'm sure you understand that it can never get into the wrong hands."

"Of course." I say, and the cold feeling I had forgotten returns.

"I understand." You whisper to the baby.


	12. Chapter 12

You came by after school every day that week. I was asleep on most occasions; kept to my room otherwise. I didn't like appearing that way; broken down and bandaged up. Sometimes, in a half-dream, I would hear something like your voice and Setsuna's. I'd hear the lift of your tone when you saw Hotaru. I suppose you'd all been friends in lifetimes before. I wondered whether we might ever reach that level of ease between us. Would I know how to be your friend?

It took a while to reacquaint myself with the procedures of getting up and around. By the time I was able, the skills most urgently required were in baby maintenance 101. Setsuna was about to leave for some place or time and Hotaru was at the seriously _new_ stage of babyhood. The thought of being left alone kept me up for the three nights preceding Setsuna's departure. After that Hotaru kept me up.

We got along okay in Setsuna's absence. I've given up on school work so sleeping wasn't as important as it might have been. I lied to you. I said that I'd let you know when Setsuna left and if I needed help. You've got a life to live. You've got exams. I guess I can't help feeling bad for your involvement in any of this. Still, I think of you often. I think of the ways you feel so, _so_ familiar and yet you forever surprise me. The memory keeps coming back to me - you can fight, really fight! And you did it your way, with elegance, consideration, precision. Perhaps if I'd said everything to you up front it would've helped? No. You had Elza. The kind of information I had would have cancelled that out from the get go. Maybe you'll feel more able now that things have settled. Maybe you'll both work things out.

Hotaru still doesn't sleep at night. We've tried it. On the fifth night I think we both watched the moon fading into morning with tears in our eyes. We sleep in small snatches during the day. I often awaken to her cry. I don't take pain-killers in case of any soporific effect; sometimes the ache of my arm is enough to stop me sleeping. I have no idea what keeps Hotaru from sleeping, or what is particular about the night that causes her such unhappiness. She has no fever, no pain, she's not hungry, there's no diaper change required. At night I just pick her up and wonder around the house and make up fairy stories I don't remember being told. I guess who's to say babies don't feel the weight of the world when they wake up alone? Perhaps the greatness of everything, the coldness and uncertainty is shocking to their little souls? Impossible to remember, but how could a little thing go from being the centre of a universe, a safe, warm and familiar place and arrive happy into the largeness and strangeness of the outer world? She's not the average baby. Does she have nightmares? Memories? At the very least she must miss her mother, the smell and the softness and the sameness of voice. Nothing I can do to stand in for that. I can't be as strong as a father either, not one-armed and non-skilled.

During "Baby maintenance 101" I was fully instructed in the art of diaper origami, mastered formula mixing and genuinely pretended to listen to appropriate napping procedure. With Setsuna's help we figured out a way to do changing and feeding while protecting my arm. All in all, it was a pretty decent crash course. It still gets really frustrating at times. Really. Hotaru cries, and I don't understand, and everything I do without a fully-functioning right hand is just so much slower! If she weren't here though, it'd be hard to get motivated to do anything at all, I suppose. The problem is, I can't drive, certainly not ride. After enough doctors had assured me that unbandaging my arm could lead to permanent damage I stopped attempting it. I intensely dislike the idea of a damaged right hand. Too many things I need it for. Today, I think I need you.

I look at the phone, take a breath and walk outside first. It's one amazing place. The cliff-top view, the absence of neighbours. Who knew there was this much space in Tokyo? I didn't ask Setsuna before she left, but I'm guessing the previous owner was some kind of eccentric. It's a massive two level place, the lower with master and guest bedrooms, two of which are covered in dust sheets. There are the standard bathrooms, kitchen, and lounge areas - all nice, if a bit dusty around the edges. Who knows how long she spends here? Maybe she lives in the same construction in every time zone? Whoa. Messing with my head. The more impressive part is the top floor.

Crowning the building is a dome housing one of the most massive privately owned telescopes I have ever seen. Had I remembered, I might have asked Setsuna to show me how the thing works. It's incredible, metres long, crazy engineering. I wonder if she had checked out all these planets we were supposed to have originated from. They all just looked like stars whenever they were pointed out on school trips. _I am from somewhere further that the sky._ I like that thought. When things feel like too much, I hold on to it.

Then there's a library. It's the real deal, wall-high book shelves, old leather seats, a long, spindly ladder to reach the top tiers. It's got this crazy old English vibe, perhaps the owner was British? There is certainly a mix of languages in the titles. Plenty in Japanese, even scrolls of calligraphy in ancient ink dashes I can't decipher. From my limited understanding I've picked out Cyrillic, Latin and Arabic script on book jackets. I've sounded out some familiar titles in English on fat, weathered spines. There are works of philosophy, mythology, history, astrology… and innumerable other 'ologies. I spent an afternoon while Hotaru was sleeping trying to pick out something kid-appropriate to read. There was a beautiful old set of woodblock prints with Japanese myths. During the next interlude in her sleep, I carried her upstairs.

"Kin-ta-ro." I sounded out to her when we sat in one of the leather seats.

"Gra-ger-ga." she repeated, good naturedly.

"That's right," I rocked her in my good arm, "He was a big, _strong_ baby too."

"Grer!" The little (certainly not strong) baby made a snatch for the paper on my knee.

"He _also_ had to be brave. He didn't have his mother or father to look after him."

"Nnnnn." Said Hotaru. She rubbed her face, and almost looked solemn. Almost. Then tried to grab the pictures again.

That was one of the good times. Today I just feel exhausted in totally new ways. We're running low on baby stuff. We were already past the point of running out of grown-up stuff. I was on a diet of exclusively coffee and toast for reasons of necessity and ease of creation, respectively. Hotaru is grizzly today. I find the phone in the lounge.

I dial the numbers, lift the phone to my ear and listen for one ring, two, three; I guess you're busy with –

"Haruka?"

"Yes," I swallow, "You know my number?" Really I'm more startled to hear an adult voice. The lift of it carries through the distorted line. Your laughter.

"Setsuna gave it to me in case of emergencies. I've been thinking about you. Both of you."

"Well, we've thought of you too. Often."

"Oh, is that so?"

"Hotaru was hoping you might… drive us to the supermarket."

"Did she just? She must have heard about your speed demon style."

"I can't drive manual one-handed."

"I know."

"I'm sorry about this. Do you have some time in the…?"

"I will be there in half an hour."

"In…? Okay. Okay, we'll get ready."

I end the call. I look over to the crib where Hotaru is rolling on her back trying to pull off a sock.

"We've gotta get going kiddo."

"Gah."

"That's right, '_Car_.'"

X

M

X

Dear Elza,

I hope you are well and enjoying life as much as ever. I hope you write soon. I wanted you to know – Haruka is here, in Tokyo, and alive – though just barely at the beginning! I was so happy to find her breathing I burst into tears – isn't that silly? I guess it goes that way with anyone you've known for some time. I suppose you were right too, she is rather model-like, and it's a shocking thing to see someone like that so beaten up. I can't explain, but I don't think she will be receiving such a battering anymore. She should be safe. I think I can help now.

In fact I went to help out the other day. She has been living with a friend, babysitting a little girl, Hotaru. Isn't that a lovely name? It's Japanese for "Firefly" and suits her very well. I hope to send you a picture. We went to pick up some groceries and it was so cute the way she pointed to things and Haruka sounded them out. Ridiculous words to teach a baby, "vermicelli", "okonomiyaki", and, in the car park "Mercedes." The one consistent word Hotaru uses I would translate as "Gregerga." She raised her arms to be picked up and it is "Gregerga"; her toy falls to the ground, "Gregerga," a walker passes with a dog – "Gergerga." If you ask me, it seems to mean "Haruka," but the woman in question is certain it is baby-speak for "Kintaro." There is no arguing with her. There isn't a lot of time talking to her about anything other than Hotaru. Sometimes she feels more distant than when you introduced us. I want to ask her about the girl, the one from her old school, that Ikeda mentioned. I just don't feel close enough to ask that kind of thing. She's rather sleep-deprived; there are shadows under her eyes. Of course she denies it. She insists that I go home and study, that she doesn't need my help getting Hotaru to settle. And you thought we were an item! I feel more of a hindrance.

I wish I had more to say, but it seems to be books and baby-stories at the moment! If you ever wrote, I might know some better questions to ask you too. It feels as though the chance is fading with time. I used to shuffle through the stack of mail every afternoon as soon as I got in from school; I looked forward to it as I walked up the stairs. Now I walk past it. I tell myself that if anything looks like important correspondence my mother will mention it, or take it to my room, leave it on my pillow. She never does.

They had an athletics event at school this week. I thought of you in your bright tracksuit, how you would have blazed along the track with your crazy hair. You should have let me watch once. Whoever this person that you were waiting to beat before I could be a spectator, I might've given you the luck to snatch first place from her? So competitive. What's wrong with second anyhow? It could only have been all eyes on you!

The cherry blossoms are out this week. You'd like it, I think, one of those "Genuine Japanese experiences" you used to mention. I was walking home from the bus stop one evening and caught sight of the park and it hit me, 'of course, it's spring!' Since you can't be here, let me paint a picture; the grass was covered in picnic blankets, hundreds of little fabric islands of friends and families. The petals fell like rain. There were lanterns strung in great lengths and beneath them people played music, drank sake, and passed dishes around. It's the time of year when couples walk through the park and make promises and take cute photos of each other as though everything is new. Perhaps we would have gone. Maybe you'll visit again sometime?

Some schools have finished their exams already. The last of mine are tomorrow. I know I should feel differently, but I'm just not that worried about them. I've worked enough to get through and somehow I feel as through the worst of everything has happened already! An explosion, a whirl-wind romance! I must be mad. Serenity in cram time. My mother seems a little wary, but that it nothing new these days. I guess I'm reminded that when it's all over with I will walk out from the exam room into the light of the afternoon and… that will be that. I could probably join one of the leaving parties, but there won't be anyone there I'd care to celebrate with. Perhaps it's the end-of-school blues.

Wish me luck, won't you?

Xxx

Michiru.


	13. Chapter 13

We get a taxi. It takes a while to get all of Hotaru's gear into the car. My arm is a little shaky. The driver helps, he grins and makes weird chirping sounds he thinks suitable for babies. Idiot. He asks whether the father is a dark-haired man, the girl being so differently coloured to myself. I tell him that the father is in intensive care. The conversation drops off then. We drive away.

We stop by a florist and leave the car puttering outside. In my opinion, the vehicle needs some maintenance, though I don't feel up to exchanging opinions. The door opens with a tinkling sound. Two women call out: "Welcome."

"Good Afternoon." I smile back. Hotaru leans in closer to me.

"Oh she's _gorgeous._" The younger woman coos, bending down and waving.

The '_gorgeous'_ one turns her face. Not terribly brave today.

"So now," I bounce her lightly, "which ones, huh?" I turn slowly for Hotaru to take in the sight of chrysanthemums, roses, sun flowers…

"Gah." She reaches out her arm, opening and closing a hand in the direction of some gaudy looking soft-toys.

"You're such a girl." I tell her.

"_Gah_." She repeats with greater determination. The second shop assistant giggles.

We leave the store with a large bouquet of lilies and a fluffy creature that could either be a frog or a hippo. Hotaru alternates between rubbing it against her cheek and chewing on one of its yellow limbs. I consider whether buying a zoo's worth of the things might keep her asleep for a night. Probably not.

We roll up in front of the gates and I find my arm shaking again. Before I can act, the driver has wound down his window and pressed the intercom.

"Hello?" Comes a woman's voice. It's unmistakable, one of those clear, school-teacher-type voices. I consider declaring that we have reached the wrong address.

"I have a visitor, Ma'am," The driver leans out of the window, "Miss Tenoh for you."

"_Actually, don't worry._" I hiss. He doesn't catch it.

"Miss – Oh!" The clear voice enthuses, "Well what a lovely surprise, just a moment!"

A buzzer sounds and we crunch up the drive towards the building. If I'm honest it reminds me of my parent's place. Massive, white, practically a museum. The gardens are quite nice though. I look to my meagre bouquet and am less certain about this plan. I feel… scared?

The car stills. I try to unfasten the baby-holding contraption. Hotaru kicks out her legs and laughs. Somehow we make it out. The door to the house opens before I even approach it. It is your mother, smiling as though Christmas has come early. I'm still occupied arranging myself and Hotaru plus supplies.

"I'm sorry," I get in first, "I should have called before disturbing you. Just my friend here wanted to visit your daughter." I nod to the baby in my arms.

Goodness, it's that lovely Mrs Meioh's daughter isn't it?" She picks up Hotaru and I hold my breath for a moment.

"Uhm… yes." Gods know who's been told what anymore.

I arrange myself in the manner of a disabled back-packer and pick-up the flowers from the car before waving off the driver.

"We – I – wanted to say thank you to Michiru… for all her help." I raise the bouquet by way of explanation. "And, of course, to say congratulations on completing her exams."

"My, she hasn't even had her results yet." Mrs Kaioh smiles. "But I'd be perfectly astounded if she had any trouble. Oh, do come in – Toshio? Toshi, would you help Miss Tenoh with her bags?"

A well-dressed, wordless man trots down the stairs and quickly relieves me of my belongings. _Hotaru's _belongings.

"I'm afraid my daughter isn't home yet, I would have expected her back by now. Shouldn't be long." Still holding Hotaru, your mother walks through and sits down in a white lounge space, I follow suit.

"That's okay, "I say, "we can leave the flowers and…"

"Don't be silly," I am cut off, "Isn't she a silly one?" Hotaru is asked.

"Ga-_gre-_ga."

"Aren't you clever?"

They are all against me. The same man as before -Toshio, was it? - arrives with a tray of jasmine tea.

"And how have your studies gone, Miss Tenoh?"

"My… oh fine." I lie. "School work isn't much of a … not really a stress."

"You must be as smart as my Michiru."

"Ha, I wouldn't go that far. She's definitely one of those model students."

"She's very good. Not an uncomplicated child but…"

"Hey, who is?"

"I suppose," your mother reaches for a teacup and manages to sip at it while holding onto Hotaru. _Like a boss._ I guess she had some experience with you as a baby. I bet you were a better sleeper. "Miss Tenoh?"

"Call me Haruka."

"Haruka then, were you familiar with the American girl?"

Damn. Wasn't expecting that. This really wasn't going to plan at all.

"Yep. Elza, yes, my roommate at Adachi."

"I see. How interesting. So you got to know her quite well then?"

"Well, not really." I swallow and silently wish you into existence. "We kept different schedules, I guess. She was good though, y'know? A good student, pretty good at track too."

"You ran together?"

"Not really. I'm not much of a social runner."

There is the sound of the lock clicking shut. I turn.

"I suppose I should be surprised." You appear in the doorway. The skirt of your uniform flutters. You hold your bag with both hands and your eyes blaze. I'm about to stammer something about not having let anything slip.

"A bit lonely is it, all the way at the front?" You ask with an edge to your voice.

"Peaceful, I'd say." I fold my arms. "Good to have some space to think. Some people take up fishing."

"Oh, it's like that is it?"

"It is."

"Not always so safe on your own," you return, "Not when you _hook_ something unexpected."

"I had no idea you were such an angler." I smile.

You don't.

Your mother clears her throat. It's then that you notice Hotaru and you let go of your bag and break into a smile.

"Oh, _hello_ little one." You take her from your mother's arms, completely distracted. "Is this your new friend?"

"Am mamama." Hotaru holds out the damp hippo-frog like a gift.

"Oh that's lovely." You giggle. "And _so_ hygienic."

"Mam mama."

"Did she just say…?" I feel giddy. "Say it again!" I jump up to you both. "A first actual word! She's a genius!"

Hotaru sucks in her lips and looks a little perturbed at the attention. She rubs her face against your chest and repeats more quietly: "Ma-ma."

"Oh that's too gorgeous," your mother throws up her hands, "let me get my phone!"

We remain. My hand on Hotaru's head, her face against your chest. A feeling, something like a memory flashes in my mind and escapes too fast. But it feels warm. You look up at me, not angry anymore, not distracted – I can't explain – almost lost? Your blue, blue eyes. I can't handle it. I can't feel this way again. Not about you.

X

M

X

Dear Elza,

I suppose I'm writing to clear my head. I'm confused. I'm struggling. I'm not the _put-together-princess_ you teased me about being. I will write this now and I won't send it because tonight I lost my head.

It happened in the most ridiculous way. My mother caught me off-guard by "asking" that I stand in for a musician at an opening event. This being the end of the school term and the start of many business intakes, it wasn't surprising that such an occasion had arisen. I had thought it a little callous since any _normal_ high-schooler would have only been expected to be out celebrating with classmates! She knows me too well, I suppose. Then, possibly in reaction to my disbelief, my dear mother "invited" Haruka to attend, saying she was more than happy to look after Hotaru, that we shouldn't be silly, that I should be out enjoying the evening with a friend. A _friend_. I can't say I felt close enough to use such a term, but Haruka surprised me, she brought this beautiful bouquet. In all my distraction when I arrived I noticed it, I felt, a little too late. I should have thanked her. It would have taken a while to get everything together to even visit in the first place. Her hand is still all strapped up. It's like the necklace all over again. She astounds me with these sweetest gestures.

She is arrogant, but kind too. If you saw the way she is with Hotaru, I'm sure even you would melt. I don't know how to take this, the coldness and sudden gentleness. She certainly doesn't seem safe. We have histories though. Over the past few nights I have this recurring dream that we meet in a dusty place; a place watched over by a dark sky. In my dream she wears silver and says to me that she speaks a language with a hundred words for "air"; words that reflect its heaviness, it's moods and origins. She whispers these words to me and I try to feel their meanings. Even in my dream, her breath is warm.

In response I say that my native language has three hundred words for loneliness. I begin to speak these words I have known; they fall from my mouth like stones. I feel them all. She stops my lips with hers. Before the dream ends she promises to make me forget every one of these words. So we have these many strange histories and somehow, I feel certain, that in every one of them we meet.

In any case, tonight Hotaru was left with my mother, I went ahead to meet with the remainder of the quartet at the auditorium and Haruka was sent to "find something formal." The band members were all nice. Men studying music at Tokyo University, they were pleased that I could step in, were interested as to whether I would be studying there next term. I was pleased that it was only a short set required.

Haruka arrived a little late in the most impeccable suit. Charcoal, slim-line, perfectly pressed. That, along with her height and unaccompanied status rather took the attention away from our playing. Both men and women watched her walk in, receive a champagne glass (there was no ID check) and lean against a pillar with a hand in her pocket. I tried not to smile when she raised her illegal glass to me. I closed my eyes in order to concentrate on the piece. We performed until a set of opening speeches. Then there were the words of thanks, the enquires after my parents and studies and future plans – all of these to get through before finding Haruka. When I did she repeated the words of others, that I played beautifully, that I looked stunning. The same words but in her own low, unaffected voice. Perhaps that was the breaking point. My heart pounded. I asked "Shall we dance?"

She took my hand. She took the lead in a kind of waltz. It was such a marvellously gallant gesture! I laughed as my dress swished along the floor, as I was dipped in this most unconventional of movements with this most unconventional partner. We paused for champagne – I felt I had earned it, and returned to attempt a kind of tango…? I was aware of the looks we were receiving, but something had changed in me. I didn't feel concerned anymore. They may have identified us as a pair of women, perhaps they did not; ultimately they were viewing my dance with the most dazzling person in the room. Not the lonely school finale I had imagined at all! At some point the music must have slowed and we moved in circlets out to the balcony. The sounds of the party grew dimmer and I became conscious of the sound of our breathing. She bent her forehead against mine and closed her eyes. She mentioned it being nice to be kept up by someone over the age of 1. I closed my eyes too and the dream vision flashed through me again. The dust-covered ground, the black sky. I pulled back into reality uttering a meaningless word from the memory, something like "ashatrel."

And she whispered back, "…the loneliness of a dying sun."

I stepped away then. I wanted to cry, or burst out laughing. _All this time…!_

I watched her standing in the pale light, breeze moving through her hair. Her eyes didn't move away, only her shoulders rose and fell. I suppose I blinked and - as quickly and neatly as a dance step she came forward, put her hands to my face - and kissed me.

Elza, I won't tell you how my thoughts split away, how the spectrum of fear, longing, such sadness, such desire churned together. And it was wanting, this deepest wanting that became clear. It spread through my veins. It took over. I won't tell you how I kissed her back; how it was anything but sweet. How I was careless, taking handfuls of her soft hair, pulling her closer. How I was thoughtless about her beautiful suit. I won't tell you the things I wanted from her; I'm not sure I could name them. Recalling it now, her scent was of sandalwood, her body was both soft and hard; both shaken and sure. It was all of my strange visions, broken into brilliant reality and yet, I felt barely introduced.

We were interrupted by a man informing us that the driver had arrived. With that the spell was broken. She moved away from me. We proceeded to the car in silence. On the ride back I reached out for her hand and before moving it away she whispered that she was sorry. That it shouldn't have happened, that we could call it 'for old time's sake.'

I didn't have anything to say to that.

I left the car, went to the door, up to my room and didn't look back. I faintly heard the sound of Hotaru crying, of the car's engine, then quiet. All quiet but for my racing mind.


	14. Chapter 14

No no no no nono. No! Why? _What_ had possessed me? I sit heavily in the chair beside the crib. I put my face in my hands and curse my awful timing. Things could have gone so well.

"Ssh, sh now." I whisper to Hotaru's intermittent grizzling.

"Amama-ma." She whimpers. Then, as though reminded by her own voice, she begins to cry again,

"I know." I say. "I know, I know…" and I pick her up and don't really know at all.

"So much for feeling sorry for myself, eh?" I talk to the unhappy little bundle. "C'mon kiddo. Who needs sleep anyway?"

In my distraction I had left the lights out. We walk through the star-lit house into the library. The moon follows us in every window.

"Gragerga." Hotaru mumbles against my chest.

"Okay," I say, "We'll read Kintaro."

"Gra-ger." She repeats, self-pityingly.

"Mmhmm. It's pretty bad, isn't it?"

The books and chairs are all exactly where we left them the last time sleep evaded us. It really did feel like a lonely place at times.

"There once was a golden child," I begin, "a little boy whose mother was a spirit and whose father had vanished. And we all know that's about as good as being a spirit…don't we?"

"Nnnn."

I continue with this patchwork fairy-tale until the first blood of morning shows on the horizon. _First blood?_ Exhaustion must be playing with my mind. I put Hotaru in her crib and collapse in the seat beside. I still don't sleep. I replay the previous night. You kissed me back, didn't you? Perhaps we would call it too much champagne? For any every excuse I imagined, nothing could discount that I had upset you. Who was I to get so close? You must find me so strange. Frankly, I'm finding myself rather unfamiliar these days. I need to talk with you, to clear the air. It is the only responsible thing to do in the situation. We have… missions or a duty of protection or… I can't even remember what anymore. I' sure we had a _job_ to do?

I wait until the sun has been up for a few hours, for Hotaru to be fed, changed, for every dish to be done and cupboard to be closed before calling you.

"Hello?"

"Michiru."

"Yes?"

"I think we should talk."

"Ok." You say, "Give me half an hour."

It is a half-an-hour in which I pace the length of the house. I jump at meaningless noises. I practise mature-sounding statements under my breath.

Then I hear your car come to a stop, the engine shut off. I freeze. I hear the closing of the car door and the bleep of the locking mechanism. I hear your shoes; they have the clipping sound of high heels. I hear you knock, three insistent raps. I take a breath. I grasp the door handle.

"Please," I open the door, not looking directly at you, "Come in."

You walk ahead and there is a stiffness to you again. There is a change in the tilt of your chin, a rigidity in your posture as you sit across the table from me. I lace my fingers in what I imagine to be a business-like manner. I watch the table and clear my throat.

"I thought it was important that I… apologise." I say. "For last night. It shouldn't have happened."

"Oh?" You say with a dangerous sweetness to you voice. "Which part?"

I look up. I lose my train of thought. Your eyes are so, _so_ blue. Perhaps a shade darker at this time of day? Maybe they're influenced by your temperament. Your expression is set to decidedly unimpressed. This isn't going well.

"Look I'm really, _really_ sorry. I shouldn't have kissed you. Really. The thing is we still have… this job to do. I don't even know what, but, as leader of this team…"

"_Leader_?" You shoot back. "Of what army?"

I suck in my breath, "It is my responsibility as Uranus to take charge of the soldiers of the outer sol-"

"Seriously?"

I fold my arms. "Ask your friend if you don't believe me. Setsuna knows."

"Haruka," You say, voice warning, "Setsuna is _not_ present. How do you imagine you are leading her?"

"It's not quite-"

"And me? What leadership style is…" you throw up your hands, "Oh, I don't know, keeping me in the dark about everything?"

"I'm sorry."

"Frankly," your palms are flat on the table, "if anyone is in charge it's Hotaru. And _she _is in charge of _you_."

You inhale, push back a strand of hair and compose yourself once more.

I wasn't prepared for that. _Business-like._ Aim for business-like.

"These are all valid… "What was I supposed to say to that? "Did you want some tea?" I try.

"You don't have any tea."

"_Surely _I have some tea…"

"You don't." You say. "I asked the last time we were at the grocery store and you made a face and said no, that it tasted like socks."

"Really? But what about for gues-"

"You said you didn't want guests."

"I see."

"Good."

"You have… a very good memory." I chew my lip. "So… do you want to be leader?"

You looked pained for a long moment. Then, just as it seems all is lost, you burst out laughing. "Oh! Why do you have to be so…" you rest your chin on your fist. "So… like… that?"

"Look," I sigh, "I don't know what I'm doing here, but I do need you on my side."

"And I'm there." You say. "But as your partner, not your assistant. And I'll need you to start talking to me."

"Okay," I nod, Okay, sounds fair."

Great job. Business session completed. I smile.

"So why did you kiss me?" You say.

I draw a blank. There was something I meant to say wasn't there? Tiredness or drunkenness or nostalgia or… Your look is so serious.

"Because… "I swallow, "I wanted to."

"Oh." I can't read your expression. You look down, then over my shoulder, and then close your eyes for another stretching moment. "For how long?"

"A long time."

"I see. And you're sorry it happened."

"I am."

"Because we're supposed to be having this working relationship?"

"That's right."

"Right." You nod quite seriously to yourself, and then smile. "Okay. I understand."

"Okay." I repeat and exhale. I wonder if Hotaru is awake…

"Haruka?"

"Hm?"

"I wanted you to kiss me."

I watch you get up and walk out of the room. There is the faintest hint of amusement playing on your lips. I hear your voice as you greet Hotaru. I stay seated in the 'business meeting' of my own arrangement and wonder why I feel more on the back foot that when I started. Partner? How was I supposed to work with a partner? What did that even mean?

X

M

X

Dear Elza,

I will write to you and add this to the unsent stack. And though this is not a love letter, I want to write about love. I want to write out all of the things I thought I understood and try to find the things that are true; for instance, I believe that I love you, that it is in my own way and that it will always be. I've found thinking this way of comfort. I have felt the need of such comfort after today.

I spoke to Haruka about the girl.

It was a fine day and we took Hotaru to the park. We pushed her stroller around the walkway and settled at a bench that overlooked a pond. The presence of water seemed to calm her. There was a group of elderly painters around with neat little easels and pallets of watercolours. It's nice being on holiday when the rest of the city isn't.

I had asked Haruka to be honest with me and she'd said she would. Then I asked her to tell me about the girl that she left Osaka for. At first I thought it would be like blood from a stone. She asked me how it was important. I said something about needing to know her well if we were to work closely. I needed to know the things that would push her buttons. She seemed to accept that. It's just that she looked so terribly sad I began to wish I had never brought it up. Her sorrow was not the kind to be plucked and forgotten. To touch it was to watch it unravel and grow. I became lost in it.

This horrible thought occurred to me, could I ever, would my absence ever cause such a devastated response from her? I felt jealous of this poor girl who had died. I felt so jealous that she could mean so much. She was an artist. She enjoyed sketching and visiting exhibitions of long-gone Italian renderers. She found architectural drawings infinitely fascinating and impossible to replicate. She liked curves and broken edges and, I'm sure, the lop-sided grin of her lover.

I suppose they met when Haruka had been free of the weight of the world. Did this girl who had passed away know she would leave such heaviness behind, I wonder? I suppose she thought herself abandoned. Perhaps she might have waited, might have had faith. They were young, the dark-haired girl and the devious athlete. They wrote in each other's notebooks and made impossible promises. They kissed as though each time was the last. They loved each other. I listened to this and decided I too would love this girl. I would love this girl for holding Haruka's heart, for bringing her joy, if only for a while. How else can these things be rationalised?

We took a break from such deep things. I heard about Hotaru's crying and I lied and made assurances that I could get her to sleep. I think we made a bet. I picked up Hotaru then, she had been so wonderfully serene. Haruka made some joke about confusing her into thinking I was her mother. In retaliation I made a point of teaching my "daughter" her primary care-giver's title.

"Who's that?" I asked.

"Gar-rar-rer." She answered in standard fashion, giggling at the game.

"Can you say papa? Pah-pah?" It was only a joke, but my little firefly was in fine form.

"P- Pa," She answered.

"Oh you're so clever!" I said. "Can you say it all together? Can you say… Haruka-papa?"

She scrunched up her nose. "Gragerga…"

"Yes?"

"Grager-ga-pa pa."

Elza, it was marvellous! A terrible and confusing thing to teach an infant, sure, but the look of pure shock that we earned! Oh so priceless. "Haruka-papa" picked up the baby genius and threw her up into the air. She squeaked with joy. I had never thought of myself as a maternal person but it's too cute the way she laughs. I could watch them play together for hours. Forever. Oh to hold time captive.

We returned to Setsuna's house and between the two of us got Hotaru to sleep. I sang her a vague lullaby and Haruka told a confused fairy-tale about heroic babies. That was all it took. The infant soldier of destruction looked to each of us with her eyelids growing heavier and heavier until they closed completely. Sleep. Haruka maintained it was nothing short of a miracle. I teased and said she just needed to go out into the fresh air more often.

We watched the arrival of evening and its descent into night. We talked about what we might have been without our inherited duties. All the while I avoided thoughts of Haruka's skin. Of her heat in the darkness. I took a gamble. I asked her whether she was ever jealous of you. She laughed it off. I touched her on the hand and reminded her of her promise of honesty. She paused then and spoke quite evenly. She said that she saw that we were happy together. She said that she had hoped we might have something she could not. She said that she had come to know me long before our meeting, that she had come to understand me by visions and apparitions. She said that she had thought of me, even prior to our introduction as her dearest friend, and what did anyone want for such a person but love?

I wanted to kiss her.

I wanted to touch her cheek and tell her that she wasn't a monster and that I wasn't like the girl. That she wouldn't lead me to destruction. Then again, I can't imagine a world without her. Those days when I thought she was gone… well, I don't know. It was like losing the light. The world is still there, but you need to adjust to find its form again, to shift your expectation and understand that the vibrancy is no longer and never will be there again. I love her. I will never send this, Elza, but I will write to you now; I will tell you this once and truthfully that I love her. I'm not sure how to do it, when we can't be close, so I will learn to love the things that bring her happiness. I will love the faces she pulls for Hotaru and the stories of the girl she lost. I will love her parents, whom I haven't met and Ikeda. In part I will love Ikeda because he understands this feeling. I will love the sun on her arms. I will love the jackets and teasing and arrogance. I will endeavour to love her the way she loved me. And I will try to forget the ache of being so close and too far.


	15. Chapter 15

How it happened, I'm not sure – how do these things ever happen? We'd come to the end of another evening. Hotaru had been put down. The sky was that in-between colour, pale yellow seeping into blue. We watched it from where we sat on the lawn.

"You don't need to do this on your own." You said. "And if you don't get some sleep soon, I imagine you won't be able to look after yourself, let alone a baby."

"I think…" I sighed. "You're right. Somehow she just _behaves_ for you. I don't get it."

"Hmm." You plucked at the grass and smiled to yourself. I kept such unguarded moments of yours sealed away in my thoughts. Were you… apprehensive? "Well, my exams are over. I could be here on a more… full-time basis… until Setsuna gets back."

"Really? You'd sacrifice yourself to babysitting during your own vacation?"

"It's my responsibility too." You said, smiling sweetly. "She is. And you are."

I stretched back, closed my eyes and tried to stop myself from grinning. "Hey. I should've expected a dig in there somewhere. You're calling me a child, now?"

"No. Actually I thought you might want the chance to have some time to yourself."

"So you want me to leave?"

"_No_. But don't you, for example, want to see your family at some stage?"

"Hm? You're all here?"

"Oh." You say softly.

I reopen my eyes as you kiss my cheek.

"Why can't you be so sweet all the time?"

"I… it'd be an unbalanced diet." I touched the place your lips had left cold. "How much stuff do you have?"

"Oh, it'd probably only be two or three things."

"That many outfits?"

"Outfits? Don't be ridiculous. Suitcases, Haruka. _Really_, you must get some sleep."

"Sounds like it. I'll clear the room by the – you know – that near the lounge one."

"That would be lovely."

"We can call the shipping company tomorrow."

"Very funny."

"Okay. I'll drive."

"No."

"Fine. I'll remove my shoes and clean the house and look after the child until your return."

"Just… try and sleep, won't you?"

We didn't just clear out that room. We cleaned every room. We shook out voluminous dust covers and revealed antique furniture, clouded glass surfaces and abandoned spider nests. Spiders were my job. The rest of the dusting you handled. Hotaru sneezed. Over the days and weeks the curtains were all opened, the salt-scented air arrived in the rooms like a sigh of relief. The floors were swept, windows polished, rubbish discarded. You cooked! Hotaru and I mainly watched and had our suggestions ignored.

My cast was removed and I took my bike out again. It rumbled into action like a revelation. There were some fun roads around the coast by the house, bends tight enough to shave your boots on. One evening I took a ride down to the sea. Pulled off my helmet, loosened the zip of my jacket and looked over the water rippling out to the horizon. Such peace. There was no one on the beach and it was beautiful. I began to turn to you to comment then remembered, of course, you were at home. _Home_. It was like being free and anchored at the same time. For all of your bossiness and Hotaru's fussiness there was never a time when I wanted to leave. We had the benefit of familial finances and no enemy in sight or mind.

Every day we took Hotaru out to "expand her cultural appreciation" or see the cool stuff at the zoo, or simply on errands. She loved the grocery store. She would reach out and command "Papa" at every piece of brightly coloured packaging. It accounted for some unusual purchases of which you often disapproved. So many questions like: "Didn't you notice the other five bottles of fabric softener?" or "What do you imagine we're going to use flavoured _condoms_ for?" In my defence, they came in a really vivid pink holographic box. Frankly I would've expected more imagination from an artist, did water-bombs not come in many shapes and flavours?

Every night we bathed Hotaru, fed her, and got her to sleep before 8pm. We had dinner together, I did the dishes, you listened to music or I might take a ride. Every night we went to our separate rooms. Sometimes I would lie listening and half-hoping that Hotaru might awake, that I might see you again. All the time in the world together and it wasn't enough. We weren't a real family. I only wish I hadn't let myself fall so far into the dream.

Your mother, understandably, needed to adjust to your absence. You'd said that you felt indebted to the woman who had saved you. That taking care of "Setsuna's daughter" was a form of repayment, and anyway, it was a well-earned break from study. She responded with a group invitation to dinner. I asked whether you wouldn't be happier visiting alone. You answered to the contrary.

Now I shrug on a dinner jacket. I'm certain there was a white tie in my third drawer down. You are uncommonly already ready in the lounge. You are concerned about arriving late. You are apprehensive about the questions that might be asked. Your nervousness is palpable. I have done my best to avoid it this afternoon. But _now_ I am making us _late_ and-

"I thought it was supposed to be so easy to pick out an outfit?" Your head pops around my bedroom door.

"It _is_. Except for when things spontaneously disappear."

"What has disappeared?"

"My neck thing."

"_Neck thing_, Haruka?"

"The white one."

"I put your ties in the top drawer, right hand side."

"Right." I am surprised by a rather nicely ordered line-up of silk rolls. "It's like a rainbow."

"Let me look at that." You take it from my hands. "How about the blue? It suits you I think."

"Does _your mother _like blue?"

"She loves it. Stop messing around or I'll surely be disinherited."

You loop the blue one around my neck. I watch your quick hands, your earnest expression as you tie, tighten and tuck with absolute precision. You give my lapels a final tug for good measure and look me over. It's not often that you stand so close for so long. I hold my breath.

"Passable?" I ask.

"Perfect." You smile, appearing a little more relaxed.

A doorman greets us with a bow. Hotaru giggles and reaches out to the bald spot on top of his head. I call "good evening," and move on before hand and head connect.

"Pa-_pa_." She urges.

"Be good." I answer.

You are too nervous to notice. I wonder how anyone with your appearance could feel uncertain. There are diamonds on your earlobes. There are shoes worth a month's salary on your feet. Your mother catches you by both shoulders.

"Darling," she says, "Don't you look lovely? I'm afraid I should have arranged something more special, the chef is only working on some Italian dishes."

"I love Italian cuisine." You say.

"I know," she says, "I'm hoping to win you back with it!" She gestures for us to follow her through.

I suppose it is a joke. But it feels serious. You mother is also dressed as though for an opera. I look down. Hotaru is dressed as a pink bunny. There are ears on the hood. She isn't always keen on wearing it.

X

M

X

What a disaster tonight has been. I went to my mother's house and had the poor judgement of inflicting this invitation on Haruka and Hotaru. Hotaru didn't seem to mind. She has actually been remarkably well behaved of late. Haruka set her up to sleep in the lounge while we were in the dining room and there was barely a peep. I believe, at different times that both Haruka and I had hoped for just such a _peep_ to excuse ourselves from the table. No luck there.

My mother, clearly, is not happy about my current living situation. To best display this unhappiness, she asked dozens of difficult questions of our "guest." Highlights included, "have you received you exam results? Didn't you sit them a while ago now?" To this Haruka admitted that she had not. That the school bombing had adversely affected her examination prospects. She also went on to say she hadn't future plans to take exams. Or attend university. I have no problem with this at all. But for my mother, to make such a statement is akin to informing a religious person that her god is a fraud.

"You're an intelligent young woman. You come from a good family and an excellent school!" My mother had said. "Why on earth would you throw that all away?"

"Why on 'earth'…?" Haruka said, and smiled, and part of me wanted to too, but that would have meant apocalypse. She said. "I believe there will be some work through my Father's interests."

"Work that doesn't involve an education?"

"Not a standard one, no."

"Not even attending the business school? Which interests are these?"

"Motorsports."

I think my mother laughed at this point. She thought she was just being teased. Surely not motorsports! Haruka kept her cool the whole time.

"I have a good lap time. I started with kart racing. Graduated to bigger engines. Sometimes motocross too."

"…_Not_ on a _motorcycle_?" The word motorcycle was uttered as though it might have been 'heroin'.

"Sometimes." Haruka nodded. "I've been out of action with my hand, but-"

"You haven't been on this motorcycle, have you?" I was asked.

I simply answered, "Not yet."

This was perhaps unwise, but I wanted to defend Haruka! Why shouldn't she pursue her crazy racing goals? I was quite certain she was talented. And why should music or art be held in higher regard? Any pursuit, any passion, was it not a thing of beauty? I posed such questions to my mother when we were out of earshot 'checking' on the desert. She asked me whether I was rebelling against something. I answered that I wasn't. I said I was quite happy where I was; that I was perhaps happier than I have ever been. She just looked hurt. She said there were plenty of young women who wanted to do something with their lives, and asked why couldn't I date them instead? I said we weren't even dating. She didn't believe this. She knew how Hotaru referred to both of us. She said if even a baby was aware of this relationship, why wouldn't she be? I repeated that we weren't. I said that it wasn't what Haruka wanted. I believe it was at about that time that Haruka came in. She apologised. She said she had forgotten Hotaru's changing things. I knew I had packed them. She thanked my mother and told me I should stay. I left my mother in the kitchen and followed Haruka outside. Hotaru grumbled a little at her sudden removal.

"You're throwing me out?" I asked.

"No, I'm throwing us out. I think you need to discuss some things."

"I don't want to discuss some things." I said, then, almost like a child, "I want to be where you are."

She smiled, and then mimicked "Oh Darling, wouldn't you like a nice young woman with _excellent_ business prospects."

I laughed. "Oh, dear me no. I'm rather involved in an unrequited relationship with a self-destructive idealist. She's trying to save the world, you know."

We both fell silent at that. I wanted her to say there was nothing unrequited about it. I wanted her to say it was silly. It was funny. It wasn't funny.

"I don't want you to hate my family." I said. "My _other_ family."

"We don't." She said. "We promise."

"I'll stay with her a little while" I say. "Then can I come home?"

"Of course. I'll wait up and worry." She said.

"You could make some tea."

"My favourite." She moved into the car. The window wound down. "Don't' go telling your mother that we aren't together because I don't want you."

"Why not?"

"She'll never believe you. No one would."


	16. Chapter 16

I wrench the handbrake long before the end of the driveway. The lights are on at the house. I didn't leave them like that. I focus and find a crack of from the front door. No, I didn't leave it like that. I stiffen. I suddenly regret returning without you. Hotaru chirps away, blissfully unaware. I let the car engine rumble to a stop and unclasp my seat belt. I look to Hotaru and place a finger on her lips. She blinks.

"Just wait here a moment, okay?" I whisper. "Don't try to start driving lessons or anything."

I creak open the door, put my foot down and ease my weight onto the ground, cringing at the crunch of gravel. I hear blood pumping in my ears – _1-2, 1-2, 1-2_ – ever faster. I walk on but keep looking back to the car seat. _She's fine. She'll be fine._ You wouldn't approve of leaving her, would you? But you're not here. I move in closer to the house, trying to tune my hearing better to giveaway sounds. What to expect? I recall the noises preceding the explosion at Adachi. There had been a kind of cranking, a metallic sound, a scattering of footsteps. I feel faintly ill. Is it the same people? Have they finally broken through and come to snatch Hotaru? How were they planning to…?

There is music playing inside.

I swallow. Were they cocky enough to have the run of the place already? The curtains, all drawn, obscure any sight of the interior. I am at the front door. I take a breath. I feel a coursing mixture of rage and terror. No one was going to lay a hand on that kid. They wouldn't dare. I raise my fists. I kick in the door.

"Whoever the hell - !"

"…Oh!" My intruder holds a newspaper to her chest, "Oh! Well…good evening?"

"Setsuna?"

And it is. Wearing a dressing gown and a look of absolute shock. It is a few moments before she replaces the paper in her hands to the table and gathers herself.

"Quite an entrance, Haruka. Some people settle for a simple 'hello'."

Were I less adrenaline fuelled I might laugh, "I thought..." I'm stammering like an idiot, "I thought you were a prowler or a…"

She gives me an odd look.

"No, no, I just _live_ here…? You remember that much, right?"

I sigh. The knocking in my chest slows back down. "I should probably get the baby." I turn and leave the house again, crunching the gravel as loudly as I like.

"You left her in the _car_?!" Setsuna calls. "To fight an unknown assailant?"

I'll admit, I wince. Why did I know that would come up?

Hotaru is amused at my arrival. She waves her arms "Pap –papa!"

"Oh yes, that's right," I undo her belt, "such fun yelling in the middle of the night."

We gather in the lounge area and Setsuna, now calm once more, allows a small smile. She has news. She laces her fingers on her knee.

"Shouldn't she be in bed by now?" She asks of the bundle in my arms.

"Huh? Oh no. She needs Michiru to get to sleep. Isn't even worth trying otherwise."

"Oh? Oh good, so you have got it together after all. I was wondering where she was actually."

"Got it together?" I raise an eyebrow.

"Well, yes, I mean you are…? She watches her hands a moment. "You're – _staying_ – in the same room I assume?"

"Ah no. I say. No, no no no no. We're just… She's, well, _I'm_…"

"Haruka's rather against the idea." You cut in. For the second time that evening I jump out of my skin.

"Mam-ma!" Hotaru laughs as though she were in on a game of peek-a-boo.

"Damnit." I shudder, "Why do I never hear you coming?"

"Coming?" You say, eyes twinkling. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

You look back to Setsuna, breaking into a full smile, "It's lovely to see you again. How has it all gone?"

You move into a generous embrace. It's so easy between you two.

"It gone and gone." Setsuna says, smiling in a relaxed way, "It's nice to be home."

"I hope you don't mind," you say, stepping back, "We've done a spot of rearranging."

"So I've seen! It's beautiful, really lovely." She says, "It can seem such a lonely place at times…"

"Lonely huh?" I hold up Hotaru and bounce her lightly, "we were hardly left alone, were we?"

Hotaru giggled.

"But no-ow, it's wa-ay past you bed-time…"

"Oh, goodness," You say, then to Setsuna "We'll only be a moment."

I don't know that this moment will be one I should hold on to. I simply take our temporary daughter up to her temporary room, all the while murmuring nonsense about the brave baby who had to take on the world by himself.

You hum a lullaby that has become familiar. Hotaru is perfectly serene this evening. Her eyes begin closing almost as soon as we put her down.

You sing the last lines to her:

"Take the boat at the dock; drift away to forget,

Splash lines though the moon on the sea,

I'll wait in the dark, stay awake 'til we meet,

Only say you'll remember me."

I want to hold you. I want to tell you that yours are the first lullabies I have heard. I want to thank you for introducing such sweetness to me. I wish I could be as free as you are with Setsuna. I just can't quite feel like a friend. I place a hand on your shoulder. You are silent.

"I think that did it." I whisper.

"That and those few extra hours we hadn't planned for."

You place your hand over mine. I think my heart stops. Such a small thing. Your little hand in the darkness of the room. Such a small gesture and it overcomes me like this.

"We should go." I say, "Before the spell is broken."

Setsuna is where we left her, flicking through the newspaper. I suppose catching up on current affairs is to a time-traveller as map reading is to a tourist. I wonder how often she must remember to forget certain things. I guess the future can't be that certain if she's visiting several different strands of it.

"Did she drift off so quickly?" Setsuna asks.

You smile and nod. I fall into a chair.

"You've done a wonderful job. Both of you. Actually that's what I've come back to tell you. This particular job has finished."

"What?" I cut in, "She can barely speak yet. How are you going to handle her while drifting in and out of whatever space-time…?"

"Haruka." You speak softly. There is a sadness about you. "Don't you feel it?"

"What? Feel what? Amazed, I guess, that either of you think she's ready to-"

"Her father is waiting for her." Setsuna says, more gently than I'm used to. "He's undergone the necessary physical and mental rehabilitation and… he's asking for her."

"He's mad!" I say. "Have you forgotten?"

"He wasn't himself, Haruka," you say, "But I don't feel the threat anymore. I feel peaceful."

"And that's what we're going on? A _feeling_?"

"You'll have tomorrow morning to take her there." Setsuna speak, "If you truly believe Mr Tomoe to be a threat, we will obviously reassess."

"You're just humouring me." I say, a bitter taste in my mouth.

"We'll miss her too." You say. Your eyes are shimmering. But I can't stay and listen to you. I can't listen anymore when everything has already been decided. I leave the lounge and walk out into the night.

Over the grass and closer to the cliff's edge I listen to the roar of the waves and the howl of the wind and I stop. I wait until the sounds are loud enough to drown out my own and wrap my arms around my ribs as if that would stop me from falling apart.

X

M

X

"Do you think she'll be alright?" Setsuna asks.

"I wish I knew." I say honestly. "She goes off sometimes. She'll just take her bike and disappear. Half the time I wonder whether she doesn't want me around."

Setsuna laughs a little. "She's rather good at those exits. _And entrances_, I might add. She burst in on me tonight, ready to attack."

"Oh?"

"Apparently I was a potential burglar."

"She thought…? And she didn't call for back-up? Typical." I sigh.

One step forward, two steps back.

"Don't be too hard on her," Setsuna smiles, "She's always' been a little… rash."

"Impetuous." I offer.

"Irrational." She says

"Impossible." I put my chin on my palm. "Just impossible."

"So… ?"

"So?" I ask back, just managing a smile.

"What's new? Any nice boys on the scene?" She asks cheekily.

"I'll be sure to send them your way, when I see them." I say. "Other than that I've had rather an interesting conversation with my mother."

"She seemed lovely."

"Seemingly lovely is part of her profession." I answer. I suppose that sounds a little sharp. "She wants to throw me a party."

"Well, how perfectly atrocious of her." Setsuna says dryly. "And for what is she punishing you this time?"

"I've been offered a music scholarship." I close my eyes, smiling only a little "In Vienna."

"Vienna! How wonderful!" I'm given the usual response, "Goodness, Michiru, from your expression one might imagine Vienna was in the middle of civil unrest?"

"Ah, no," I say, watching the front door, "It appears to be quite as beautiful as ever… from the campus prospectus."

Setsuna looks at me with such gentleness. Where she has been all these years, I wonder. All these times when I could have used kindness without complication, without expectation.

"Have faith," she says, "In all the iterations of likely futures, there are very few things that I count on. But." She cocks her head, "well, have faith."

Alone in my bed, I find no faith. Sleep evades me. One half of my mind is occupied listening out for the front door. The other jogs through the time we have had together. I keep reminding myself that tomorrow afternoon Hotaru, my little firefly, will be gone. The sound of her will be absent from this house. The routines of feeding and napping and discovering – all redundant. With every reminder come the tears. After slow hours my eyes feel raw. Mt heart feels raw. The emptiness solidifies within me. It grows. I ache with it. I long to leave this room to get up and, yes, to find Haruka. To find her awake. To have her wrap around me and have only soothing words. I want her to say that this won't tear us apart. I want her to say we will remain a family. I want her promise, _promise_ with all her strength that she won't desert me. But such things can't be wished into existence, can they?

I get up. I walk, not in the directions of another room, but to the kitchen. I take a glass to be filled. I think of all the tears shed and reason that I must need replenishment.

There is a silhouette in the lounge that I know all too well. I put down the glass and approach. She turns and her skin looks blue in the moonlight. Her eyes are dark and I notice the sheen on her cheeks. _You feel it all,_ I think, _you understand, don't you?_

"It's okay." I say. "I know."

I wrap my arms around her. I tell her that we won't be without Hotaru forever, that we are a family that has existed for lifetimes before and lifetimes after.

Her arms encircle me. Somehow I forget the words I had rehearsed. Warmth spreads through me. My fear of a deep, expanding loneliness begins to loosen.

"I won't let you down." She whispers fiercely. "I won't let any of you down."

She strokes my hair. I pull back and look back to her.

"Then kiss me." I say. "Kiss me and don't regret it."

For a terrible moment she doesn't move, just watches me. _I've gone too far_, I think, _I've chosen the wrong moment_. Then she drops her head, and pushes her lips against mine.

The night swirls around me. It swirls within me. I hold onto her. I breathe in her scent. It's a kind of delirium. I crave and crave. We drop to the floor. I grasp her back. She tugs away my clothes. I kiss her like she doesn't belong to me, like it's the last time.

Or is it the first time?

I pull off everything covering her, anything between us. I run my hands over her body. As she breathes, so do I. When her eyes must close, so must mine. As she kisses, as she shudders, as she watches, I do the same. And wrapped in each other, in the strange blue light, in the house we don't own, I feel I belong.


	17. Chapter 17

"What? What is it?" I feel a nudge at my side but can't bear to open my eyes yet.

This bed is really hard. My shoulder is absolutely killing me. It's also freezing -

"Sunrise." You say.

Out of the blur of sleep I see orange light. It falls over the peak of you hip, the length of your thigh. Quite a landscape. I blink to the source of your voice, and find the same light catching in a halo about your tousled hair. Your eyes are almost purple. I consider that I haven't met them at such a time of day. You wear only a shy smile.

"I could get awfully self-conscious, you know." You pull up to me.

I wrap around you like it's the most natural thing in the world. I love your scent. I feel outside of my life. The sun will rise, I think, the light will change and I will wake up without you.

But you have awoken me. There is no other real world to fall into. In this world we are lying on the floor watching the sunrise… entirely naked.

"What time do you think Setsuna gets up?" I whisper.

"Oh," you say, and then more loudly, "Oh, I'd forgotten she was- Oh!"

You gather a handful of our clothes and hold it over your chest. I try not to grin and fail.

"Haruka…! If she – can you imagine?"

"Easily."

You pause. The flicker of a desirous look passes over your features. Devilish. I can't resist. I snake an arm beneath the small of your back, the other just under your thighs, and scoop you up. Half-swallowing a shriek, you release all garments to cling to my neck.

"You're so loud." I say.

"Hush." You answer. "Take me to your room."

X

X

X

We awake again with the sounds of life coming from the kitchen; a ceramic clinking, the rustling of paper. Setsuna. Then, that whimper, the grizzling of a child not ready to be fed. My heart, that which had been an ember in my chest, loses all heat and becomes only weight. I don't want to leave this room and face today. Can you read that? You seem to. The way you look at me… I don't know, if I were the swooning type, I'd surely be crashed out on the floor. Do I deserve such a look from you? After everything?

"Come," you say softly, your skin brushing mine, "We'll do this together. We'll be okay."

I believe you. What else can I do? I look at you now and all good sense cartwheels out of memory. We dress. I resist inhibiting the process. I take in the sight of you greedily. Again I watch the unconscious way you gather your hair, drop it, smooth it to its original arrangement. A satin strap is touched into position. You have lovely shoulders. You look over one of them inquisitively. I feel the pulse of desire spreading again and try to swallow it down. We can do this together.

I take your car and drive us to the clinic not looking to the passenger seat where you both are. I don't look, but I know anyway. You are holding her against your chest and smiling and pretending. You speak to her gently and she doesn't recognise the significance of the silver trailing steadily down your cheeks. Another walk in the park, she'll think, another trip to the grocery store. My heart breaks twice over. Once for me, once for you. Hotaru will grow and we will fade from recollection, vague voices in the murk of time, a scent that lingers, familiar, and then is ghosted away. My throat tightens. I breathe in and refocus on the road ahead. No time to crash the car. Definitely bad leadership.

I pull into a 'visitors' park and kill the engine, pull the handbrake and watch the reception sign ahead. Inhale. Exhale. We can do this. Okay. I get out and help you with Hotaru. For a moment we hold her together. I can't look you in the eye. The moment is skittered away all too quickly.

"Gragergap –gapa pa." Hotaru takes a little handful of my collar and thumps it up and down.

"Hey, hey, so demanding?"

"Hnnn." She swivels her head around to follow your progress. You unpack diaper bags and toy bags and baby holding devices for all situations. It isn't a trip to the supermarket.

"Golly!" A man. A cheery-looking nurse type presents himself with a smile and an exclamation. "Takes a village," he nods to you, "and a small city to bring up a kid these days, huh?"

Somewhere, I suppose, there was a punch line.

"Uh?"

"You're here with the Professor's daughter."

"Yeah." I look down at 'the professor's daughter' and feel winter invade my veins. I must chill this connection, I think, freeze it to numbness. I will grow hollow, leave a great open space. I will feel nothing.

"You've been so good to take her for all this time. Have you children of your own?"

"Sorry?"

"Your wife," he looks over to you again, "Mrs Meioh, is it?"

You look up and make a connection before I do. "Kaioh Michiru," you give one of those smiles you reserve for formal occasions, "We are friends of Setsuna.

"How lovely."

"No children of our own." You say, perhaps a little stiffly.

"Oh let me help you with those," the man says, finally of some use.

Hotaru nuzzles my collar. She's not sure about any of this. Nor am I.

Every step forward is jarring. Friendly arches and clean rooms pass by before we move through to another outdoor space. The sun breaks into my eyes. Ironic. I don't look at you, but I feel your tension. Hotaru is chattering, reaching back to you. I suppose it's another park to her. Around us are inhabitants of the clinic; slow-moving, pyjama-wearing figures. They, like me, blink in the brightness. We are adjusting poorly. The words of our escort, plentiful and positive as they are, won't string themselves into any meaning. What is the weight of sadness? At least one thousand times greater than an infant.

I am walking through the sunlight, breathing it in. I am carrying something so that I might lose it again. We stop in front of a man I don't quite recognise. Nor does he recognise me. But his expression breaks upon seeing Hotaru. So here he is. This is the man I will give her away to. This man in pyjamas with tears in his eyes. To his outstretched hands I transfer the bundle in my arms.

"Hello, sweetheart," he laughs lightly, "Oh, hello, my sweetheart."

"Hn Nnn," She responds, not at all frightened.

"You remember me? Eh? I'm your Papa."

That's right. The _real_ deal. I want to leave. I step back. I hold when I feel your hand on mine. It is at this touch, this understanding of yours, that my own eyes sting. You put your other hand on my shoulder. I want to crumple right there. I don't.

You speak, "It's nice to meet you, Mr Tomoe."

And it does feel like a first meeting. This man bears no resemblance to the maniac I had glimpsed in those hours of horror. Just a man. A Father.

"And you. Thank you so much, Ms Kaioh, Ms Tenoh." He bows to us in turn. I guess Setsuna had explained something of the situation. "I don't know where she might have been if… well, I don't know…I just, I can't really recall…?"

"Easy, Mr Tomoe," says the nurse-man, "Don't' strain yourself. We'll get there in time."

Mr Tomoe nods mildly. With the blessing of the Gods he _won't_ get there. Ever. His memory of that time will have gone down with the school. I wish I could shake it so easily.

"Mm… mama-ma." Hotaru opens her hand in your direction.

"What's that?" Tomoe looks down, "No, darling your mama has… oh?" He looks up to you. He smiles.

"Oh, you really have made a connection." He says. "Ms Kaioh has been a good mama, huh?"

"Mma-_ma_." Hotaru concurs.

Your hand clutches at my shoulder.

X

M

X

When I think of it, I suppose I've never considered Haruka anything but strong. When I'd found her beaten, bleeding, physically defeated, she'd still always held something in reserve. Even with hope fading as certainly as the sunset, there was that flicker of determination in her eyes. Now, I think, I must keep strong for her. Now, as we say our goodbyes to this little girl; now as we walk from the smiling professor and the strange clinic; as we close the car doors with an echoing sound. Now as she turns the keys in the ignitions and I feel the depth of her silence.

If only I could tell her everything.

In this instance I can't share with her the sad truth. Both Setsuna and I, given the nature of our abilities, are blessed and doomed to anticipate such things. The truth is Hotaru will not have long with her father; he is not a well man. It's a premonition I cannot shake. Hotaru will be orphaned by her twelfth birthday. I envision the world as she sees it, the fire of birthday candles warped by tears. Gifts unopened and forgotten; useless consolation prizes.

So I didn't make plans or promises to keep in touch with this Mr Tomoe. My heart tells me to let him enjoy these years with his daughter. My heart tells me to hold on, that I must only farewell these moments of Hotaru's childhood, that we will be reunited. But Haruka, oh Haruka, driving with eyes fixed only ahead, if I could let her in on the…

My phone rings. My mother's number flashes up. I briefly consider throwing my phone from the window.

"Good morning, Mother." I answer.

"Darling, wonderful news, those gentlemen from Tokyo university have come to meet with you, they've a fine proposition, a concert opportunity…!"

"I'm sorry, they're where?"

"At home, of course. You aren't _terribly_ busy are you?"

"I, actually, we're just - "

"If you're with Ms Tenoh, she's welcome too."

"Well, I am with… _Ms Tenoh_… she just driving us-" I look over.

She raises an eyebrow and mouths 'your mother?'

I nod.

"Wonderful, then you should have no trouble getting here quickly."

"But I…?"

"See you soon, darling."

The line goes dead. I quash a sudden urge to curse.

"You'll have to direct me." Haruka says, eyes on the road. "This isn't really my neck of the woods."

"We really don't have to – "

"It's fine."

I'm startled by her coldness. I swallow.

"Really," she speaks more softly, "It's fine. It's okay. Whatever it is, it sounded important."

"Just a performance, I suppose." I say. Still, it does spark a curiosity in me. It's rather flattering to be asked after all.

"Sounds good." She says absently. "Just one request."

"Yes?"

"That black dress."

"Sorry."

"Wear _that_ black dress."

"The one designed by…?"

"I don't know designers."

I laugh suddenly. "Then how am I to know?"

"_You_ know." She speaks, smirking, still looking ahead.

I feel heat at my cheeks. "My, I had no idea you had been paying such attention to my outfits!"

"You live. You learn." Her attention is focused on slaloming between vehicles. Better that way.

I am quickly ushered into the living room upon arrival. Haruka is to remain with my mother. A closed style of meeting, then. The three young men are pleasant, excited and nervous. They are polite. They begin by congratulating me on my position overseas. I smile and imagine screaming at my mother. They continue, speaking in starts, cutting each other off, mentioning plans for a concert prior to my departure.

I nod at times, I laugh, I give the standard sounds of affirmation. But my thoughts drift to the night before; I recall Haruka's sound and catch my breath. I think of the urgency of her hands, of her lips…

"So we'll call you soon with rehearsal plans?"

The young men are making to leave.

"Perfect. Thank you for visiting." I say, standing, walking them to the door.

My mother waits, provides her usual farewell that manages to fluster men of all ages. Time lurches on as they move away. I look back into the kitchen, the hall. How long has it been?

"Where's Haruka?" I ask.

"Oh, I'm not entirely sure…"

"_Mother._"

"Darling… you did mention Vienna to her?"

"No. No I haven't. And why are you? To those university students, I mean. I don't know that I've decided yet and…" Realisation dawns, my blood runs cold. "You _didn't_?"

Her expression is confirmation enough. "Darling, I only thought… that with you being such good _friends_. She just happened to see the prospectus, I was so proud and…"

I rush out to the driveway and find the car missing.

When I am driven back to the house on the cliff I find the car but no motorcycle. No motorcycle and a wreck of a bedroom with a half-emptied dresser.


End file.
